Raelyn
by KaniacQueen
Summary: Eliot has a secret long-kept from most of the world, including the team: A 23-year-old daughter who's followed in his footsteps, much to his dismay.
1. Chapter 1: Secret

Fingers entwined, Parker and Hardison poked into their colleague's apartment. Once they realized, their friend had company, they treaded lightly to try and determine if it was safe to interrupt.

"Ow! You don't have to be so rough!"

"Dammit, Rae! Hold still, and it won't hurt so much."

"I wouldn't pull away if you'd remember the bandages you're yanking on are attached to a human being."

"You could remember human beings break and stop being so damn reckless all the time!"

"Can we skip the lecture, please?"

"You want me to bandage you up, you're gonna listen to what I have to say."

Against their better judgement, the pair stepped into the living room to see Eliot bandaging the hand of a young raven-haired woman. Parker cleared her throat. The other two looked up from their triage. "Shit," the girl hissed. "I'm out!"

"Dammit! Do you two not know how to knock? What the hell?" Eliot ranted. He caught the girl, who was now halfway out the window, by her injured arm and brought her back in. "Get your ass back in here, Raelyn. I am not done with you yet."

Raelyn seized as she snatched her arm out of his grip. "Dammit, Dad!"

"Dad?!" Parker and Hardison questioned in unison.

Father and daughter muttered similar strings of obscenities. "I really should go," Raelyn insisted, heading towards the back door as Parker and Hardison stood paralyzed, trying to absorb the scene.

"No."

"I'm 23 years old! You can't tell me what to do, old man."

More shock piled on top of the observing couple. No one ever in their relationship had ever dared to talk to Eliot that way. Eliot was clearly growing uncomfortable having an audience. He took a breath, but it didn't seem to help. "Why don't you hang around for dinner?" It wasn't a question. He softened just a bit, the love for his child showing through. "We can have whatever you want."

Concession and possibly guilt painted her face. "Fine." And she turned and stormed upstairs.

"Um," Hardison started. A single syllable raised a dozen questions.

Eliot went to the kitchen, and they followed. He passed out drinks, and upon cracking open his beer, began to explain without ceremony. "I was young, and it was a drunken one night stand with a friend. Andi knew I couldn't be a parent in my line of work, so she played the martyr, and made it clear she was going to handle Raelyn on her own. I visited as much as I could, every few months or so. I didn't really realize how much of a martyr Raelyn's mom was being. When she was 15, Raelyn ran off and came to find me. Evidently, Andi didn't try to hide the fact that she never wanted her. Even though I never spent that much time with her, not by choice, Raelyn knew that I cared a lot more about her than her mother did."

"How have you managed the last eight years with the team and...that?" Parker asked in disbelief.

Eliot sighed heavily. "Fortunately...and unfortunately, there's a lot of me in her. I doctored up some paperwork and set her up in an apartment. I checked up on her any time I had a moment, at least once a month. She was pretty self-sufficient."

"What happened to her arm?"

Eliot couldn't seem to look up. "Like I said, there's a lot of me in her."

"Do you guys fight like that a lot?" Parker asked.

He rubbed his brow. "More and more lately." He took a long swig of his beer. "Like she doesn't even try to keep herself from getting hurt. She could've picked a real path and made something of herself, something good, something better. But no, she drops out of high school, scrapes by with a G. E. D. even though she's smart enough to have graduated with Honors in school so she can run around retrieving things, reckless little shit."

Parker snorted derisively, the hypocrisy pointed out without words. He shook his head gravely. "I didn't grow up planning to do the things I did."

"Is she playing white or black?" Hardison asked, suspicious.

Eliot groaned. "She says white. But she's so new to the game, I'm almost sure she doesn't know who deserves it and who's a victim."

Hardison couldn't help but smile at this new side of Eliot. "Must suck that you can't handle her the way you handle most of your other problems," he snickered, rapping his knuckles on the counter.

"I've come close a few times, make no mistake."

"She drives you crazy."

"At high speed with no brakes."

"And you love her."

"More than myself. More than food. More than life."


	2. Chapter 2: Cologne

Awhile later, shortly before dinner, things between Eliot and Raelyn had cooled down. They sat in the living room while he redid her bandages, setting her arm in a brace and sling. Hardison and Parker, curious about the more calm interaction, joined them quietly.

"Raelyn, this is Parker and Hardison. I work with them. Guys, this my daughter Raelyn." Even though it was subtle, everyone heard the note of pride in his voice.

They all told old war stories of past cons. Well, Raelyn didn't. She'd learned a while ago that her father didn't like to listen to what she did at work. The only thing Raelyn discussed was her arm when Parker asked exactly what happened. Raelyn worded her explanation carefully, glancing at Eliot to make sure he kept his cool. "I, um, had to make it out of a window in a hurry. The window wasn't a kind that opened, so I had to break it. It was plate glass window. It cut me and I fractured my wrist. Then I broke my arm on the landing." Eliot looked like he wanted to comment, but Hardison cleared his throat. Now was not the time for an argument.

Soon it was time for Eliot to start cooking. Raelyn tentatively followed him. "Can I help?" Eliot glanced at the sling but nodded. He started telling her which thing to grab and set where. Hardison and Parker watched from the dining table. Watching Eliot create art in the kitchen had become a pleasant pastime. Hardison noticed the more subtle idiosyncrasies that Raelyn shared with her father. The way her bottom lip curled inwards when she was frustrated, the way she idly ran her fingers through her hair when she was thinking; all so very Eliot. She even had the habit of twirling a lot of things you handed her. However, she wasn't nearly as graceful as him. She dropped about every third thing she twirled. She clearly carried the appearance of her mother, though. Raven hair; big, dark eyes, auburn skin. It didn't match him, so it must've been her mother. Eliot stood behind her, giving instructions and helping move her into the right positions. "You wanna rotate your wrist as you whisk, like this, so that you get a lot of air in the mixture, to make it fluffy." If you blinked, you'd almost miss the tender kiss he brushed on her temple as he left her to whisk with her good hand.

Dinner went shockingly pleasant. Raelyn sat especially close to her father. It was amusing to watch Eliot turn into a child for a moment as she started a fencing match with him using their forks. After dinner, it was decided that everyone stayed for a movie. It was a surreal experience to see Eliot on a couch with a young woman's head resting on his chest, his arm around her, protective possessive. It was around eleven when the gathering broke up, and Hardison and Parker left.

Raelyn caught on that Eliot kept Parker and Hardison around to keep her around, and he expected her to spend the night in the guest room, or because she was often the one staying in it, her bedroom. She decided to play along, kissed her dad goodnight, and headed upstairs. A few hours later, the apartment was silent. He must finally be asleep, but it wouldn't be for long. She crept downstairs and headed towards the front door only to see the last thing she wanted to see waiting for her in front of the door. Arms crossed with authority and eyes glaring through messy hair, her father blocked her path.

"The hell are you doing?" he muttered. She seethed, not answering. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Nowhere you need to stop me from going."

"If I didn't need to stop you, you wouldn't have to sneak out."

"You can't stop me. I'm an adult."

"An adult that's had to have her dad set her broken arm four times in the last six months!"

"You fucking hypocrite!"

"Get your ass back upstairs before I tear it up!" She made a move towards him. He flashed that smile that struck fear into the hearts of thousands of men and opened into a defensive stance. She backed off. This rarely worked in her favor. He nodded towards the stairs, and she obeyed, almost chewing through her tongue in anger.

As Eliot stirred eggs in a frying pan the next morning, an unpleasantly suspicious smell violated his nose: men's cologne and not a cologne he recognized. Was someone in the house? Steadily as he could, he turned off the stove and traded his spatula for a knife. He skulked around the corner only to hear footsteps coming down the stairs and the smell getting stronger. He raised his knife, but it turned out to be Raelyn. The smell was coming from her, more specifically, the unfamiliar man's shirt on her shoulders. He started putting the pieces together.

"Why are you wearing some guy's shirt?"

"How do you know it's not mine?" she accused. It was actually a valid question. Her wardrobe didn't exactly scream of femininity. It was mostly cargo pants and muscle shirts and her ever-present steel-toed work boots.

"It reeks of cologne. Men's cologne."

"I wear men's clothing, I could wear men's cologne."

He was losing his patience. "Rae, do you have a guy upstairs?" She answered with a derisive snort. Unlike him, she wasn't a great liar. He darted upstairs. Her room was empty, but her window was open. She didn't have a habit of keeping her window open. His eyes narrowed. He jogged back downstairs and passed her with a nonchalant, "Your boyfriend left the window open."

"He's not my boyfriend," she snapped. The words had barely left her mouth when she caught the trick. Busted.

He swatted her thigh. "Not in this house," he warned.

"Well, I'd go to my own, but my psycho dad is holding me hostage."

His voice took on that soft tone, like he was trying to cover up some vulnerability. "You can go when your arm is better."

Her tone calmed as well. She was trying to have more of a discussion than yet another argument. "Dad, it's just a broken arm."

"No, it's _another_ broken arm. It's barely healed and you break it again. I'm not having it. You stay here until you're out of the sling, probably a while longer." He glared at the sling the whole time with pain in his eyes. Your daughter breaking her arm was different when you were the one she had to set it. It's a painful experience, having to fix your child's injuries; it's just a glaring example of your failure to protect them.

Seeing the look on his face made her withdraw. It was the same look he had when she used to talk about work, the same look he had every time she showed up at his doorstep beat to hell and asking for help.

He snapped back into Harsh Dad Mode as he went back to the eggs in the kitchen. "Get rid of that shirt. Or I'm gonna burn it myself. I don't even care if you're wearing it." He felt her open her mouth to argue, but he gave her a look, _the_ look, the look that said "one more word and I will follow through with whatever corporal punishment I see fit."

"Fine," she mumbled and went to throw the shirt in the trash outside.

When she came back in, Eliot asked the disgusting question that had gnawed at him for the last several minutes. "How do you even do a dude while you're wearing a sling?"

"The same way you stick it to Nurse Gayle with a busted shoulder and fractured ribs," she mocked, disappearing back upstairs. He wanted to swat her again, but this was one of those battles he knew he really had no business being in. Raelyn was technically an adult who could sleep with whomever she chose, and he knew she was adamant about protection. It just pissed him off that she managed to sneak a guy in and bone him right under his nose. It was a habit of hers, a talent really, to sneak people in and sleep with them wherever she chose. He had bigger fights to win with her, so he let it go.


	3. Protection

As they were cleaning up the kitchen from breakfast, there was a knock at the door. "Upstairs," Eliot directed Raelyn, but she was already headed that way. He made his way slowly to the door, making sure not to open it until he was sure she made it to her room. He opened the door and sighed. "They told you?"

"First thing this morning," Nate nodded.

"What about Sophie?"

"She knows too. I wanted a few minutes alone with you before she came storming in here, going on about you keeping something this big from the team." Eliot opening his mouth to argue, but Nate raised his hand. "I know exactly why you did it, I understand. I just think Sophie will accept it better if you explain it, maybe with her around. Can I come in?" He stepped aside and let his friend in. "She's here, I take it?" Eliot nodded. "You keep her out of sight unless you know the people at your door are safe." It wasn't a question and Eliot nodded again in agreement. "Can we have a few minutes alone before you release her?"

"Of course." They headed to the kitchen and Eliot handed Nate a beer.

"Tell me about her."

Eliot relayed a lot of the story he told Parker and Hardison. He saw the gears turning in Nate's head as he spoke. "You've had her for the last eight years?"

"Yup."

"I knew there was something else."

"What do you mean?"

"I knew there was another reason you hid the truth when we took down Damien Moreau." Eliot flinched at the name. "It wasn't just about protecting the team, it was about keeping Raelyn out of harm's way. You weren't sure how safe you could keep her from a guy like Moreau, so you were trying to keep him away from all of it. Dropping your name wasn't about us, it was about her. He was going to recognize you regardless, but if you played your cards right, he'd never suspect you were hiding a weakness like that." Eliot winced again at "weakness". "I get it, Eliot, you don't have to look so ashamed."

"It's not about that." He shook his head. "I should've told you, one father to another, you deserved to know."

"To be fair, I never willingly opened up about Sam. Not often. Couldn't expect you to do it, either." Nae changed the subject. "Hardison mentioned things between you were tense. What's going on? I mean, if you're okay talking about it."

Eliot sighed heavily. "She took after me, a little too much. Hardison and Parker busted in while I was fixing her arm _again_, the reckless little shit. She's trying to be a retrieval specialist, just like me, but I don't think it's a good idea."

Nate cocked his head. "Really? I'd have thought you'd be proud."

Eliot shook his head. "Nate, the path I took was not one I planned on growing up; it's certainly not one I would've picked for my daughter."

"Well, maybe-" Nate was interrupted by the front door swinging open. "Incoming," he murmured.

"How could you keep something like this from us?!" Sophie shrieked, storming into the kitchen. Nate merely leaned back to watch the show. "I thought you trusted us!" she continued.

Eliot stood up and held up a halting finger. "Number one, we all had our own private lives outside the office. Number two, I was protecting her."

"From us?!"

"From the people who were after us, Sophie!" Eliot yelled. Sophie froze. "The less people knew about her, the less danger she was in. People are after me, Sophie, to this day. If word got out about her, they'd string her up in a heartbeat, and she's not exactly the con artists that we are. Getting there, though. Maybe you could share your birth certificate with us before you start tearing into people about trust. So don't you dare try to make this about me trusting you. This was about me protecting my daughter, and if you can't respect that, you need to leave. Secrets aren't always about trust." He took a deep breath. He hadn't intended on getting so angry. Nate stared at him wide-eyed, apparently he didn't expect it either.

Sophie's face fell with shame. "I...I'm sorry, Eliot. I was...wrong to be angry with you."

Eliot crossed his arms and nodded in acceptance to the apology. A smile tickled his lips as the familar note of pride hinted in his voice, "You want to meet her?"

Sophie and Nate perked up, "Yeah!"

"All clear, Rae!" While Raelyn made her way down, Nate whispered an abbreviated version of Raelyn's story to Sophie. When Raelyn appeared at the bottom of the stairs, Eliot instinctively reached for her and wrapped his arm around her. "Raelyn, this is Nate and Sophie; I used to work for them. And this is my daughter Raelyn."

Eliot was amused at that two contrasting reactions to her. Sophie looked absolutely appalled at her choice of outfit while still reeling from the fact that Eliot has a daughter and ripped Sophie's head off about it. Nate, on the other hand, looked like he saw exactly what he was expecting.

Sophie offered her hand. Raelyn looked tentative, to say the least, but after a reassuring squeeze from her father, she accepted and shook Sophie's hand. Sophie flinched, feeling the unexpected rough calluses on Raelyn's hands. Nate, picking up on the aversion to contact, merely nodded acknowledgement from the counter. Raelyn nodded back.

There was an awkward silence as it was clear Sophie and Raelyn were from two different planets, and no one had anything to say. Sophie returned to Nate's side, and whispered conversations started between the two pairs.

"I heard yelling, before you called all clear." Raelyn posed the question without really asking in a whisper.

"It was nothing." Eliot attempted to brush her off as he gave her another reassuring squeeze.

"It was about me, wasn't it?"

"It's nothing to worry about."

"If it's nothing to worry about, why won't you tell me?"

Eliot's tone turned to a low growl, "Rae, for once, will you listen to me?"

The growl got Nate and Sophie's attention. Raelyn slipped out of her father's grip. "Sophie, can I get you something to drink?" Eliot asked to change the subject. Arguments were a part of Raelyn and Eliot's routine, but arguing in front of people was something they preferred to avoid. He handed Sophie the ice water she asked for and looked over at Raelyn. "Hey, we need to check the bandages on your hand."

Raelyn looked the exact opposite of thrilled at the suggestion. "They're fine," she insisted.

"Don't," Eliot warned. "I'm gonna go get the kit. You play nice."

Raelyn sat at the counter and started easing the sling off. Sophie leaned forward. "So...what's Eliot like as a dad."

Raelyn answered reflexively. "A pain in the ass." Sophie was taken aback, while Nate just snickered. Raelyn smirked, amused at Nate's reaction, but upon realizing Sophie didn't get the answer she was looking for, she elaborated, "The good kind of pain, you know? Er, he's always looking out for me...whether I want him to or not. He's...he's a good dad. I couldn't ask for anyone else."

This seemed to quell Sophie, but it wasn't about quelling Sophie, not entirely. Raelyn meant what she said. He got on her nerves, but she wouldn't trade him for the world. He came downstairs with the kit, and Raelyn's demeanor changed. He helped ease the sling off the rest of the way, revealing the extent of her injuries. The cast extended from the top of her bicep to the middle of her forearm. Attached to the cast was a polymer brace that immobilized her wrist and hand. "Now, you have to keep really still," Eliot warned.

"I know," Raelyn answered, bracing herself. He very carefully eased the brace off to uncover the bandages underneath. He took a pair of surgical scissors out of the kit and began cutting a line down the bandages.

"Now, I have to ease them off, because if I yank them quick, I could misalign the bones."

Raelyn grunts in disapproval, but lets Eliot continue. He began to slowly peel back the bandage as she seethed. "Son of a bitch!"

"Hey, watch your mouth. We have company." He reaches over and assists in holding her arm down.

"It fucking hurts!"

"I'll slap the taste out of your mouth if you cuss one more time. And if you squirm anymore, I'm going to duct tape you to the coffee table again. "

Sophie stared wide-eyed. "Again? How did she get that sling on her arm?" she mouthed to Nate.

Nate shook his head, denying Sophie's train of thought. "She's Eliot's kid," he explained with a whisper. "She...takes after him." Sophie stares at Nate for a while before the connection dawns on her.

Eliot peels the last bit of the bandage off. Sophie is openly horrified, and even Nate looks a little morose. The hand is swollen and covered in deep cuts; while still recognizable, it's in rough shape. The horror deepens in Sophie's face, and Nate flinches when Eliot says, "It's healing already, good." He squirted a generous amount of gel onto a large swab and started coating her hand carefully. With her free hand, she shoved a piece of her shirt into her mouth and growled into it. "Calm down. You'd think after all the times I've had to do this crap, you'd take it better."

Nate just barely made out the words, "I've gotten better," though the shirt.

"Alright, I'll give you that."

Nate tasted pity for Eliot as he watched his face as he bandaged his daughter's arm, flinching minutely with her every pained groan. After the brace was reattached, Eliot put together a syringe with pale blue liquid. "Alright, Rae, your favorite part."

"Dad, I don't need the painkillers."

"Yes, you do," and he popped the needle unceremoniously into her exposed upper arm. "The benefits to a daughter who refused to take pills," he explained to Nate and Sophie as he swabbed the injection site with alcohol, "is that needles are faster anyway."

"Jerk," Raelyn grumbled.

"Love you too, Rae." He kissed her forehead. Despite her discontent with his actions, she leaned into it.


	4. Chapter 4: Not Seeing

After a couple of beers, Eliot loosened up and cranked up his sound system, blasting country music. He started rocking around to the beat of the music, beer in hand. "Raelyn, come here."

Raelyn appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room looking thoroughly unamused. "Dad, I'm not dancing with you."

"Come on, you always dance with me." She just shook her head. "You know you can't stay mad at me." He reached for her uninjured arm.

She unconsciously glanced at her reslinged arm. She sighed and accepted his hand. After a twirl, she interjected, "Alright, Dad, if we're going to do this, put the beer down, so you don't spill it, and move the coffee table."

Like it was a routine in itself, they both grabbed a side of the coffee table and shifted against the wall, out of the way, and Eliot set his beer down on it. Fluid motion followed them back to the center of the room. Raelyn was the most relaxed as she'd been in the last several days, as she went through steps she'd done a thousand times beside her father.

Nate, who'd been watching from behind the couch with Sophie, pulled her to the middle of the room near Eliot and Raelyn, wrapped her in his arms and swayed to the best of the music.

Nate recognized the look in Eliot's eyes. Eliot wasn't seeing Raelyn as the young woman with the broken arm. He saw the pristine six year old he spun around in her mother's living room on the rare days he saw her, the overactive eleven year old trying to do cartwheels in a field, the two week old infant he held for the first time.

Raelyn's footsteps came down the stairs as Eliot was in the kitchen fixing pancakes for breakfast. As she approached, a smell much less pleasant than pancakes breached his nose. "Dammit, Rae! Again?!"

"Good morning to you too, Dad," she responded flatly.

"Seriously, you have another one like every other day, always a different guy, and you don't even try to hide it."

She shrugged as she poured herself a glass of orange juice. "You're just mad that I get them in and out before you notice. And that I'm getting more than you."

Eliot was too disgusted by the notion to respond for a few minutes. Even when he could respond, he could only get out, "It's just...disrespectful."

Her tone dripped with mocking. "Well, you won't let me leave or work until you're satisfied I am _completely_ healed, so I have to get my aggression out somehow."

"Speaking of which," he said, desperate for a subject change, "lemme see your arm."

Raelyn had now been in the house six weeks. The cast and sling were removed at four weeks, but he had demanded she stay longer to make sure the fracture was not only healed, but that her arm was recovered wholly, strength and all. Of course, she healed almost as quickly as he did when it came to injuries. She obediently offered her arm. "Flex for me," he instructed. She opened and closed her fist while flexing all the muscles in her arm, while he pressed his fingertips into her arm at intervals. "Alright, gimme the other one to compare." The process was repeated on the other arm. He sighed. "Are you feeling any pain?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"No!" She snatched her arm away from him. "Look!" She pulled the half gallon of orange juice out of the fridge and did some arm curls with it. "I'm fine. I have no pain, and my strength is back."

"Alright, fine."

"Finally. I'm out." She disappeared out of the kitchen.

"Wait, out where? Where are you going?" he called after her.

"Out. Work. Away from you." And before he could argue, the front door slammed. She was gone, and unless he was going to take drastic action, she was going to stay that way for a while. Understandable, she didn't deal well with house arrest. For the next couple of weeks, he would call her, and she wouldn't answer. Sometimes, he'd even get sent straight to voicemail, but then he'd get a text message from her saying "I'm safe". She wasn't in the mood to talk to him, but she wasn't completely cutting him off, either.

Eliot heard two women giggling outside his front door late one night. He took a peek out the window. They seemed harmless, groping and kissing on each other, likely tipsy. A naughty idea popped into his head. He opened the door. "Hey, ladies, is there anything I can-Rae?!"

There was a tanned, bleach-blonde in a denim mini-skirt, cowboy boots and a sheer white tank top with a ton of body glitter, and next to her was his little girl in skin-tight jeans, a black vinyl halter top, combat boots, and heavy eye-liner. He had barely recognized her. He'd almost hit on her. This was worse than his worst nightmares.

"Hey! Dad!" And she was drunk. Fantastic.

He grabbed her arm and began pulling her inside. "Come on, Rae, you're done for the night."

Her "date" protested, "Hey! Who do you think you are?"

"I'm her father, and if you don't scram, I'm going to call the cops and report you for Public Intoxication." He hauled Raelyn over his shoulder, and slammed the door in the blonde's face. It wasn't his style, but he was in no mood to argue with some drunk kid over _his_ daughter.

"Dad, what the hell...what the hell are you doing? Did you just Beaver-Dam me? This is bullshit. Put me down." Her rant was slurred.

"Come on, Raelyn, let's get you to bed," he said, shockingly calm. Part of him wanted to tan her hide, but of course, punishing her while she was drunk would be useless. And part of him found it curious and oddly warming that in her drunken stupor, she ended up at his place.

"I don't wanna go to bed," she complained.

"Yes, you do." He had made it upstairs with her laid her down on her bed.

"No," she whined quietly.

"Goodnight, Rae." He kissed her forehead, a habit he had never broken, no matter how long it'd been since he'd done it.

"Night, Dad," she sighed.


	5. Chapter 5: Guilt

Raelyn woke with a dull ache in her head. "Good job, Rae," she mocked herself. She opened her eyes, and it took her a moment to register that she was not at home. "How did I end up at Dad's?" She strained to remember her actions in her drunken state. And there they were. "Aw shit. Dad's going to tear me up." The wheels in her head started turning. Based on her experience, trying to stealthily sneak out, wouldn't go well; he was always waiting around some corner somewhere. She didn't have the tools with her to trick the alarm on the window. It would be best to just make a run for it. She limbered up and psyched herself out for the upcoming sprint. She threw open the bedroom door and took off. She was almost to the stairs when she heard the heavy footsteps behind her. When she hit the stairs, she swung her legs over the rail and landed with a thud in the foyer. Faint growling reached her ears. Finally her fingertips grasped the door knob.

"Raelyn Angela Spencer, get your ass back here!" She wrenched it open and fled out the door. Eliot had barely reached the bottom of the stairs when the front door slammed shut. She was too far gone. He glared at the spot next to the stairs where she had landed. Of course she was graceful as a damn gazelle when she was escaping his hand. Then again, there was a difference between clearing a stair rail and throwing yourself out a six story window. Reckless little shit.

Eliot sat on his couch, finger resting tensely on his temple, glaring at what looked like and old handheld TV set. Guilt sunk its claws deep into him as he pressed the button, and the screen crackled to life, showing a tiny dot moving along a map. It had been done for her safety. The GPS transmitter came in the form of a black leather and onyx bracelet shortly after she came under his care. She never took that bracelet off. And he never told her the real reason for the gift. He had turned it off when she turned eighteen, deciding that as an adult, he had no right to track her anymore. He didn't know why he decided to turn it off. How could someone who dropped out of high school and settled for a G. E. D. just so they could knock people around for a living deemed an adult just because of a number on a birth certificate?

Raelyn had crossed a line. Showing up at his place blind drunk with a bimbo one night stand. Still, two different guilts battled inside him. The first felt guilty for ever turning it off. Maybe if he hadn't, he could've saved her a few broken bones. The other felt guilty for turning it back on. He had no right to track her; she was an adult. He'd injured himself quite a bit in his early days too. The battle raged on. He didn't turn it off, so at first it seemed the first guilt prevailed, but he placed it face down on the coffee table. Compromise.

He checked at least every couple of hours. She spent a lot of time at home, then at a restaurant nearby, then an office building. The office building intrigued him, but she wasn't there for long. It was getting into the evening, and he had nearly filled the counter with baked goods with the secret ingredient being anxiety and anger.

He checked the tracker again, and his eyes widened. He recognized the address. She was at a warehouse he'd been to several times. It was usually where two opposing businesses had meetings, since it was considered neutral ground. Things rarely stayed business-like at these meetings, and there were often guns. The rational voice that begged him to remember Raelyn had been dealing with this kind of thing for around four years now was squelched as he packed up some gear and headed towards the warehouse.

He stuck to the edges and shadows created by the stacks of wooden pallets. There seemed to be more of these pallets every time he was in the warehouse. Normally, he'd be the type to jump into the thick of things, but in no way did he have any reason to be there. It could spark gunfire if he popped up, neither side having warning that Eliot Spencer was in this fight. He wasn't really here for this fight. He just wanted to check on Raelyn, help her out. He wasn't confident things were going to stay as quiet as they were now.

Muscle from both sides seemed to be taking patrols to keep sure neither side had hidden arms, so it was getting increasingly difficult to stay a ghost. He moved around a corner to find himself face-to-face with Raelyn.

"Hey, you doin' alright?" he asked almost below a whisper.

"What the fuck?" She caught herself, cupping her hand over her mouth. Even with the sudden appearance, she knew she couldn't alert anyone to his presence. "What are you doing here?" she mouthed furiously.

He was about to answer when a deep male voice came from a few aisles over, "Andrews? You find trouble?"

Raelyn pressed her hand over Eliot's mouth and answered back, "No trouble...Got it handled." She took her hand away, but before he could try to answer her question again, she took hold of a top pallet on one of the stacks, launched herself upward and wrapped her legs around his neck.


	6. Chapter 6: Handcuffs

Eliot felt very stiff and heavy, and he couldn't move his limbs. Part of him didn't want to, but he opened his eyes. He grunted in surprise to find he was at home on his couch. What the hell? Had he gone on a bender? He hadn't done that since-

"Mornin' sleepyhead."

He turned, as much as he could, to see Raelyn in the chair next to the couch with a heavy combat boot resting on the coffee table, looking both amused and irritated.

"What the hell happened, Raelyn?"

The boot on the coffee table slammed to the floor and Raelyn's expression became full-fledged fury. "What the hell happened? What the hell happened?! You almost blew my cover, you son of a bitch! That's what the hell happened!" He didn't have a response, so she continued. "What in the _hell_ were you doing in that warehouse?"

Even though it made sense in his head, when he said, "I was checking up on you," he knew the words carried no water with her.

"Checking up on me? Checking up on me?! You have no need to be checking up on me!"

"I just-"

"No no no! This isn't...This isn't even about that! You...That...was incredibly stupid...and reckless."

"Excuse me? Wait a damn minute. Why am I cuffed?"

"Because you're going to listen to me."

"About what?"

"You could have gotten us both killed! Do you get that? Twenty three years and we've kept ourselves out of each other's circles. I stay invisible, so no one can use me against you." Her voice was weakening. "The same is expected from you."

"Raelyn, retrieving is dangerous-"

"It always has been! Did your dad check up on you when you started?!"

"Raelyn, don't-"

"I'm not done! I endanger my own life when I work, just my own. You, with this, you endangered both of us. Everything in our lives, you messed with that. And you extended my job. Took me days to cover you up and get back on solid footing, so I could weasel out the bigger guys and get in to screw up their nest."

"Wait a minute! Days?! How long have I been out, Raelyn?"

"Nine days."

"Nine days?! What the hell!"

"I finished in eight, but I felt like I deserved a day off before having to deal with you."

"Raelyn Angela, I am going to beat you senseless."

"I wouldn't count on it. Your work buddies are coming by tomorrow to see how you're doing."

That stopped Eliot in his tracks. "What do they know?"

"Bits and pieces. You went in to help me on a job. You were focused on me, got caught of guard and poisoned. You needed a few days to recover and then you wanted a few days to yourself. You almost lost your daughter after all." Mocking poisoned her every word.

"Great." It was a genuine relief. There was silence for a few minutes.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I followed you." The lie rolled off his tongue.

She raised her hand like she wanted to wave it in a rant or even hit him, but instead it just shook violently and she let it fall to her side. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the keys to the cuffs, and threw them at him. "It's not like you couldn't have gotten out of them already." And she walked away.

She was right. With the right focus, he could've slipped out of the cuffs in a couple of minutes max, so why did she cuff him?

And then why did she stay? After she handed him the keys to freedom, the freedom to follow through on his threats, she didn't leave. She went upstairs to her room. And he didn't burst in and punish her. He just sat there wondering where it all went wrong.


	7. Chapter 7: Shouldn't Have

Breakfast was eerily quiet. Eliot kept waiting for Raelyn to say something so that he wouldn't have to talk first. She did the dishes after breakfast, still without a word. His thoughts simmered. He pretended to watch Clint Eastwood movies with her. Normally, they made commentary, but like the rest of the morning, there was silence.

A few hours later, when she sauntered off to the kitchen to make a snack, he followed her and finally spat out the decision that'd been bubbling since the day before. "You're going to stop retrieving."

She dropped her food her her plate and pushed the plate away. "Dammit, Dad, we're not having this conversation."

She stomped upstairs, and of course, he followed. "Raelyn!" he warned.

"No," she stated unshakably, not even looking at him.

"What do you mean 'no'?!"

"I mean no."

"It's not a question!"

"And yet my answer still stands."

He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around in the hallway that was created by the upstairs landing and the rest of the bannister. "Dammit, Raelyn, I-"

"NO! I am not going to keep having this conversation with you over and over again! I'm done. I'm an adult! I'm handling my life!" She turned her back on him and kept ranting. "If you no longer want to be in it, fine! It's not worth constantly having to juggle-"

He took her arm and yanked her backwards. "You reckless little shit, you're not going to walk away from-"

"Get your overbearing hands off me!"

She spun around and took a swing at him.

He acted on reflex. He caught her arm and twisted it behind her back, hard enough to immobilize her but not hard enough to cause any real damage. He shoved her against the bannister so that her top half hung over the foyer. His free hand swung and he began spanking her with zero mercy. she growled through gritted teeth. He whooped until his arm got tired and his entire hand felt bruised, though much less than her rear end. He heard her growls pitch higher and break as the pain became less tolerable. When he finally released her, she stepped out of his reach deftly and tried to roll the soreness out of her shoulder as she refused to face him or move any further.

"Don't you ever take a swing at me like that again. You will never be too old for me to whip your ass, ever. Am I clear?"

She turned slightly to answer, and he caught a glimpse of the flush in her cheeks. She hadn't been crying, (he questioned if she even had tear ducts, really) but she was humiliated at the very least. "Yes, sir."

"Get out of my sight."

She slunk into her bedroom, unable to hide the fresh limp.

As soon as she disappeared, a giant fist of guilt knocked the breath out of him. Now that the moment of anger had passed, it didn't feel right to have spanked his 23-year-old daughter. It was doubtful she would ever take a swing at him again though. The guilt hung around, however, and he started to think he was guilty for a different reason than he thought.

At some odd hour between midnight and sunrise, Raelyn's sore form stalked out of her bedroom, along the bannister, and down the stairs. She moved noiselessly to the front door. The keypad next to it was glowing blue. Of course he set the locks after an incident like that. She ran through previous passwords in her head. "Mom," she said to herself. Her father knew the only thing that pissed her off besides career lectures was her mother. A-N-D-R-E-A. The keypad turned red. Nope. He used her middle name a lot when he was mad at her. Hell, he was the only one that knew it besides her and her mother. A-N-G-E-L-A. Still red. This was new. He normally sucked at pass codes. Didn't take her more than one or two tries. "Raelyn Angela Spencer." R-N-A-A-S-R. Red. Damn. She stood there in thought for several minutes. "Reckless Little Shit, of course." R-S-L-E-S-T. The keypad beeped and turned green.

But Raelyn found herself not going through the door. Reckless Little Shit was a term of endearment at this point. He lost it because she took a swing at him, not because they were arguing. It was always the same argument, though, and she was getting tired of it. It always became an argument instead of a conversation. It was always a fight instead of talking. If she left like this, it would continue. She wouldn't be ready to talk for a while, but if she took off, he wouldn't talk either.

"Damn." She kicked the door without conviction and snuck back upstairs, unaware of the cross-armed figure watching her from the shadows.


	8. Chapter 8: Brotherly Advice

The next day, the team came by for a visit to make sure Eliot and Raelyn really did fare okay after their sugar-coated misadventure. Raelyn and Eliot put on their practiced smiles and went through the day. Sophie couldn't stay long because she had rehearsal, and Parker was distracted with a repelling rig she was working and disappeared into the backyard to work in peace. They all had their workaholic moments. Nate and Eliot found themselves in the kitchen with coffee.

Raelyn, wanting to avoid being in the same room as her father, stalked into the living room. Inconspicuously, Hardison followed. "What'd you do?"

"What do you mean?" Raelyn asked warily.

"You have the limp of someone who got their butt whooped and you and your dad seem too damn pissed at each other for this to be just work-related."

She flinched. "We were arguing, things got heated, and I took a swing at him."

Hardison howled. "Wow. Something tells me, you came up lucky."

"Not my smartest move, I'll admit."

"What was the fight about?"

"Work."

"Of course."

"He wants me to stop, and I...disagree."

"He's just-"

She turned on him and got in his face, "If one more person says he's just trying to protect me, they're going to need the protection!"

He put his hands up defensively. "Hey, girl, hey. It's the truth."

"It's bullshit. I don't need protection. Not the kind he thinks."

"I want to disagree with you. I saw your arm."

She slumped in defeat. "That's aftermath. He gets hurt all the time. I've seen a lot more scars than you have." She rose in a tirade. "I've needed a few bandages here and there, but I've never needed help getting my job done. I do my job. Cuts, bruises, broken bones, but I've never had to be rescued. Not from a job gone wrong."

"He yells at us, too."

"What?"

As if on cue, raised voices were heard from the kitchen. Well, one voice, Eliot's. "See?The four of us, we've all gotten ourselves in some pretty tight spots. And he will hurl profanities every time he has to fix it."

"But he fixes it, and he yells, but he doesn't try to take away your entire career."

"Point taken. But he works with us. You're out there alone."

"So was he."

"He's not anymore." She groaned, lost on how to explain. He sat down and gestured for her to join him. She did so gingerly. "Maybe it'd help if you didn't shut him out."

"I'm not trying to shut him out. He made it clear a long time ago, he didn't want to hear about it."

"Presentation. Don't tell it like a war story. That's going to scare him. Ask for suggestions, advice." He waved his hands in a dramatic, flourishing gesture.

"I don't need advice. I've handled it all just fine." She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Now I know that ain't true." He poked at her formerly injured arm.

She pulled away from him. "He gets hurt, too."

He got stern. "Most of the time it's cuts and bruises. He rarely needs medical attention. From what I hear, you need it every few weeks."

"I may get hurt, but I rarely mess up a job. I'm younger, still learning on the combat front. It's not like he was always the best."

"So let him teach you."

She shook her head. "He won't go for that. I mean, he already regrets teaching me the basics."

"No, he doesn't, I promise. Presentation. It's a way that he can give you less medical treatment and know that you're not going to get too much of the dark side of retrieving."

She shrugged. "I'll think about it."

"Can I ask you something?"

She started to get to her feet. "You can ask, but I won't promise an answer."

"Do you know what side you're fighting for?"

She turned to face him head on, her arms crossed dangerously. "If I tell you this, and you tell my dad, I'm going to rip off your fingers, deep-fry them, and feed them to you, understand?"

Hardison pressed himself further into the couch. "A-alright."

She kept her voice low. "I know a lot more about what my father's done than he realizes. For the ones he can't completely get rid of, I remove their underlings, make it difficult, unfortunately not impossible, for them to get their dirty work done."

Hardison nodded dumbly. "Wow."

"Not a word to him, or I make you more obsolete than a walkman."

"Yes ma'am."

Raelyn sauntered off to the backyard.


	9. Chapter 9: Fatherly Advice

"What happened?" Nate asked.

Eliot looked up tiredly from his coffee. "What?"

Nate smirked."You're daughter clearly doesn't want to be in the same room with you. What happened?"

"What always happens," Eliot muttered.

"I doubt that."

He shifted in his seat. "It started out that way."

"And?"

"I was telling her I didn't want her retrieving anymore, and she...disagreed. She got really pissed off and took a swing at me, and I kinda spanked her."

Nate chuckled. "Seems a little more than kinda. She's limping, and your hand's still swollen."

Eliot shook his head. "Nate, please. I feel bad enough."

"Why?" Nate asked with purpose.

"You don't spank a twenty-three year old."

"You do if she just took a swing at you. Come on, Eliot, you should be proud. You've now given merit to every parent who has screamed 'You're not too old to go over my knee!'."

Eliot hid his face as he tried not to laugh. He sobered quickly, though. "None of it would have happened if I hadn't started the argument. Again. But I didn't want this for her."

"You're lucky." Eliot glared at him but Nate continued. "You've got what so many parents want: a kid that followed in their footsteps."

"Do they wanna burn the rug in their living room because of the number of times they've had to clean their daughter's blood out of it. Yeah, Nate, I'm living the fucking dream!"

Nate stood up but kept his voice low. "You're her hero. You've been her hero since day one. She wants to be like you. Even after years of hearing she's not good enough and you don't want to see yourself in her."

Eliot got closer to him. "That's not true! I never said anything like that to her!" He slammed his fist down, and the force knocked the coffee cups over.

"I said that's what she hears, Eliot." Nate grabbed paper towels and began wiping up the mess. "She had two options: a mother who didn't want her, and a father who does everything to protect her. I think she picked the better option."

"She doesn't know what she picked!"

Nate refilled the coffee cups. Eliot returned to his seat, still tense. Nate dug through cabinets and raised a whiskey bottle to Eliot's eye. Eliot shrugged and nodded, and Nate splashed some of it into the coffee before finally sitting back down. "It's been what five, six years since she started? You don't think she's got it figured it out by now? You think a kid a smart as yours doesn't know exactly what she's doing?"

"I'm not always sure. The other thing is, I set the alarms last night. Most of the time, it doesn't matter, she guesses the code and gets out. I do it to make her think about things. Last night, she guessed the code, but then she went back upstairs." He sighed and held his head. "I think she's trying to punish me by sticking around."

"She normally splits after you guys fight?" Eliot nodded. "Maybe she's tired of fighting. If she leaves, the fight's not resolved, it'll just pop up again in a couple weeks, She's probably tired of fighting, so she might stick around until there's no more fight."

"There's always going to be a fight. I'm always going to ask her to stop retrieving, and she's never going to stop."

Nate reached out and put it on Eliot's shoulder. "You know she's never going to stop. You know you'll always be there to wipe the blood away. Why not help her learn not to bleed so much?"

Eliot ducked his head and shook it. "She doesn't want my help."

Nate patted Eliot's shoulder. "Yes, she does."

The two couples left to give father and daughter alone time to work things out, promising to return before the day was over. When they returned in the early evening, the house was quiet. Then there was a commotion in the backyard. They went out to see Eliot disheveled, and he appeared to be talking to the sky. They looked up with concern to see Raelyn on the roof.

"Remember," Eliot instructed, "try to land flat and roll to disperse the force. You try to brace on your arms or legs, they're gonna break."

"Right," Raelyn answered, nodding.

"Hey wait," Hardison interrupted. "Why don't y'all try this at headquarters where we have equipment. And I mean, she's probably jumping off things higher than two-story houses. Headquarters is a better model."

Eliot looked up at Raelyn. "What do you think?"

"I'm in."

"Alright, get to the truck."

"Hang on." She jumped. The five of them watched with bated breath as she quickly made her body horizontal, crossed her arms over her chest and began rotating as she hit the ground, and rolled like a log for several feet. When she finally came to a stop, her limbs spread out.

"How do you feel?" Eliot called to her cautiously.

She sat up. "Still hurt like hell, but better."

He went over to pull her to her feet. "I didn't say it wouldn't hurt, I said you'd be less likely to end up in a cast."

As she went to the truck, he snuck into the living room to shut the GPS tracker off. For good.


	10. Chapter 10: Training

Eliot brought Raelyn up to a room on the upper levels of the building they used as headquarters. In between teaching her to fall, advanced hand-to-hand combat, knife techniques, and even dodging (rubber) bullets, he'd been setting up places to deal with other combat situations he couldn't deal with in the backyard. The room had been stripped bare to smooth concrete floor, no windows and grey walls. "Go to the center of the room," he instructed. She obeyed. He stepped in the room, shut the door, and shut off the lights, plunging the two of them into darkness. He began pacing the perimeter of the room. She tensed, bracing herself for attack. "Do you know what I'm doing?" he asked quietly after several tense minutes.

"My guess is encouraging me not to rely on sight."

"Good guess," came her father's voice from the darkness. "Have you ever noticed that when I attack from behind..." She felt hands on her shoulders from behind her. As the pressure of the shove started, she threw her weight backwards and rotated. As she landed, she pinned his wrists. It was a simple pin, but by their sparring rules, she had the win. "You can pin me pretty easy." She let him up and heard him start walking again. "But in a frontal attack..." His weight slammed into her chest, and despite trying to roll out from under him, he had her pinned upon hitting the ground. "You can't seem to get the advantage." He pulled her to her feet. "You go off feeling, when someone attacks you from behind. You try to use sight when they attack you from the front. You have to rely on that feeling, that gut instinct, when you feel people near you, you have to do it from all angles. Your eyes miss things, even when you see them. They're for sizing up your opponent; they're one sense, one tool."

"Right. Okay."

"Try to feel me." After a half dozen times of getting knocked off her feet, Raelyn grunted in frustration. "Stop trying to look for me!" Eliot commanded. She growled in response. He knew she was getting frustrated, and it wouldn't take long before she wouldn't learn anything because she was too frustrated and tired to focus. He calmed his voice. "Close your eyes, breathe. Okay? Feel."

The next few rounds, she seemed to getting the hang of it, striking closer and closer. Finally, the heel of her hand rammed into his shoulder. He wasn't entirely expecting it, so he hit the ground. "Good!" He heard her sigh of relief. "Again." By the end of the day, she was striking him two out of three attacks.

"Now, it's good to be able to defend yourself in the attack, but you can also take the offensive. Attack your opponent in the dark, take the advantage by reading where they are and attacking them before they attack you." They were in the room with the lights off again. "Find me. Attack me. Before I can tell you're coming."

At first, she just tried to take advantage of speed and darkness. But he would knock her down every time. "Raelyn, dammit, your opponents have other senses too. They can hear you...to say the least." He heard her scoff. After that, she tried harder at stealth and silence. He could still get her because, well, he's a professional. She was taking longer and longer to attack him. She was thinking. Good.

There was a long pause. He heard the impact of her shoes. They were going away from him. So she was moving away from him...to distract him? Suddenly a mass hit him from behind. As he went down, a pair of shoeless legs wrapped around his waist, an arm snaked around his neck, and finally a hand latched on to the back of his skull. He slammed face-first into the ground, and her weight crashed into him.

"What the hell?" His voice was muffled with his face being so close to the ground. She began to release her grip on his entire body and roll off him. "I mean, damn. How the hell, Rae?"

She was panting. The attacks had been going on for hours. "I took off my shoes and threw them across the room before took a running start and jumped on your back. Crude, but effective."

He rolled over on his back with a tired grunt and laughed. "I'll say. Good job, baby. Damn."

She heard the restrained grunts as he felt where her heels jammed into his abdomen. "Gee, Dad, did that hurt?"

"You know, I can still whoop your ass, and I wouldn't even have to get up."

She scoffed audibly.


	11. Chapter 11: Sensitive Topics

They'd decided to take a break from training for a day or two. When he figured there'd been a sufficient break, Eliot headed to Raelyn's apartment. He had a key to place just like she had one to his, so he let himself in. When he called for her, she didn't answer. Was she still in bed at this hour? A hard night drinking? But still, she was often more alert, even hungover. He headed up to her bedroom. Muffled groaning met his ears. "Raelyn?!" He shoved his shoulder into the door and busted it open. And immediately regretted setting foot in the apartment at all.

There was his daughter with her head between the legs of a petite latina woman. They pulled away from each other abruptly, Raelyn pulling a blanket over her guest to grant her some privacy. "Dad?! Can't you knock? Or better yet, call?!"

He couldn't seem to move. The other girl was frantically pulling on her pants and quietly mentioning coming back next week. Finally, he blurted out, "Didn't you hear me calling your name?"

"I WAS A LITTLE DISTRACTED!" Her volume pushed him out of the doorway. He opened his mouth to...apologize? But she wouldn't have it. "Get out. Get out! I'll be down in a minute." All three people collectively winced at the double entendre. "Downstairs. Dammit." He practically sprinted downstairs. Even still he heard bits of the apology. "I'm so sorry. That hasn't happened in like four years. I doubt it'll ever happen again. I'm so sorry. I'm going to get more locks for this place. You're really coming back next week?" Several minutes of assumed grovelling, Raelyn's caller slipped past him without the slightest hint of greeting or even eye contact, which he understood. Raelyn stormed down a few minutes after, redressed. "Are you fucking kidding me? Coming into my apartment unannounced, that's almost par for the course, but MY BEDROOM? Are you out of your mind?!" Eliot couldn't do anything but shrug emphatically. Was there any way to apologize for that level of faux pas? It was hard to imagine the last time she'd been this angry at him. "What in God's name do you want?"

"R-right. Um, get a bag together. We're taking a trip home, Texas."

"Texas," she repeated. She had seem to forgive him momentarily, but then her irritation returned for a different reason. "Wait, a second. You're not going to try and make me go see mom again, are you?"

Oh, right, that was the last time she was that mad. "Oh, no. I just, the next things I wanted to teach you, I need more space, not the kind of thing I can do in the city and go unnoticed. And we haven't been home in a while."

She cooled off again. "Oh, okay. Well, I always have a bag ready, so..."

"Great." He watched her go to her fridge and crack open a beer. She silently offered him one, but he declined. "But you know, paying a visit to Andi might not be a bad idea..."

The rage returned so quickly, it was as if she were on fire. "Dad. Don't." Her voice was amazingly restrained, deceivingly calm. She turned on him, and the volume increased to a more believable decibel but still didn't match the rage he knew he'd ignited. "Or, maybe while we go see Mom, we can stop by Aimee's too, huh? How's that sound?"

For some reason, he aimed to defend himself. "That's not-" He was interrupted by the beer bottle shattering in her hand and its remnants crashing to the floor. "Shut up, Eliot," he whispered to himself.

She began storming around the entire apartment in an effort to expend the rage-energy. "You know, I honestly don't ask you for a lot. I really dont. Don't interfere with work. Don't interfere with my sex life. And you can't do any of it. You can't even stop yourself from saying her name in front of me. Why? Why? What did I do to you? What did I do?"

"I'm sorry, Raelyn."

"Bullshit."

"Here." He handed her another beer even with the risk that she'd hurl it at his head (wouldn't be the first time), but thankfully, she accepted. He waited for the rage to dissipate for the final time as he cleaned up the dead beer.

"Seriously, is training the real reason you're dragging me to Texas?"

"Yes. I wouldn't lie to you." He could hear her eyebrows cock. "Anymore."

"Mmmm."

"So who was your friend?"

"You know, a bullet would be a faster death."

"Shutting up."


	12. Chapter 12: Texas

Eliot's 1956 Ford truck rolled down the road with his daughter in the passenger's seat. She had her feet sporting russet-colored cowboy boots pulled onto the seat, one knee against the door, the other against her chest. She'd been oddly quiet, even for her. She didn't seem angry, maybe thoughtful. The trip took about a day and a half. There was too much stuff in the truck to sleep in the bed of it so they had to stop at a motel. He wouldn't let her drive his truck (he never did, not unless there was an emergency), and she wouldn't let him make the twenty-four hour trip in one stretch (she never did, not unless there was an emergency).

Of course, they had a protocol for staying at a motel. They would stop somewhere within a couple miles of the motel, she would unload her bike after removing the tarp (she couldn't be anywhere more than a couple of days without it), and ride around for about an hour while he went to the motel and got a room. After about an hour of riding around, she would go to the motel and get a separate room. In the morning, she would leave first, ride an hour into the next town and wait. He'd wait for her to send him a location, and go meet her, moving fast, covering the bike back up with the tarp.

They finally got to Seven Days Ranch. They tried to inconspicuously glance at each other, both seeing the same content smirk on the other's face. There was never a bad day to be had at Seven Days Ranch. As always, the first thing Raelyn did was unload her bike, then looked at her father expectantly. "Alright, Rae, I got some work to do before I can put you to work, so you're going to have to entertain yourself for a while. I know that's not usually a problem for you. But I thought this would help." He grabbed a cooler from the bed of the truck amidst various other cargo and pushed it towards her.

She flipped open the top and her jaw dropped. "Is this seriously twenty-four bottles of hard lemonade?"

Eliot just kept unloading. "Mm-hm."

"Someone's trying to kiss up." She put her hand over a box he was unloading and caught his eye. "You know...I'm not mad at you anymore."

He huffed and continued unloading. "Rae, if a day goes by that we haven't pissed each other off, we're probably both dead, and have been for at least two days."

"It's not that bad."

"Didn't used to be."

"Da-"

"Danelohvsga, Ayoli," he dismissed her in broken Cherokee. They only ever used Cherokee (the bits and pieces they picked up) on the ranch. It wasn't a spoken rule, just how it worked out. There were two occasions they used it, both serious; when the discussion needed to be over or those rare affectionate moments when only Cherokee made sense. "And Raelyn-"

"I know, I know. No going near the horses once I break open the alcohol."

Eliot lurked around the property as he set up the obstacle course they'd be using for the next several days. After putting away her motorcycle, Raelyn did spend some time in the barn with the horses. Then she hauled the cooler to what she referred to as "the range" along with a bag she took out of the saddle bag on her motorcycle. She had a drink, set up a target and started target practice with her throwing knives. It was one of those things she could do for days without getting bored. And she was good at it. The sun set and she cleaned up since she was running out of light.

The next morning, he snuck her room, moving slowly to be sure she didn't register his presence. Quickly, he took hold of one of her shoulders and the opposite leg and jerked her out of bed. She woke as soon as the yank started and pulled the knife from underneath her pillow and swung before she even hit the ground. The knife swooped by his neck but missed. She was on her feet as soon as his hands left her. She looked around and registered that her abrupt wake up was caused by him. She exhaled sharply. "Dad! What the hell? I almost slit your throat."

He laughed. "Almost. Glad to see those reflexes are still sharp."

They stood next to his truck before a maze that had both wide and narrow pathways all made up of blue partitions about seven feet tall and about eight inches wide. There was a flag on a ten foot pole on the other side of the maze. "What are we focusing on?" Raelyn asked her father.

"Strategy, escape, speed. There are pathways that the truck will fit through, and pathways only someone on foot can get through. The goal is to get to the flag before I get you." He pulled an odd looking vest and equally odd gun from the bed of the truck.

She sighed in relief recognizing them as a laser tag gun and vest. She took the vest. "Beats rubber bullets."

"Yeah, the team held an intervention for that. You get a ten second head start since I'm supposed to be in pursuit."

At first, she tried sticking to the outside, but he'd wait for her by the flag and shoot her before she got to it. She actually had some better luck sticking to the middle, but she wasn't getting the flag too often. She tried weaving, and that was just an exhausting failure. She got creative and tried to use the truck to get part of the way. That resulted in an impressive lecture after she shot her from inside the truck,

"First of all, I felt your weight hit the truck. Second, what the hell is wrong with you, you Reckless Little Shit? Are you out of your mind? You are not in the position to get that close to death. What if that flag was a kid you were supposed to protect?" That mess went on for about twenty minutes while she stared at her feet in shame.

Her creativity knew no bounds, however. She started to run along the top of the partitions. It was surprisingly difficult to shoot her from that vantage point. He could still get her about half the time. It wasn't good enough. He would always get hopeful when he wouldn't see her for a while. He knew she was in some corner somewhere thinking, tracking. But there was a run where she was missing for quite some time. Finally he caught a glimpse of her at the top of the partition, but just a glimpse. She wasn't running along them, she was hurdling them. She was combining techniques so he couldn't pinpoint where she was.

"Alright, tomorrow, I'm going to take out some partitions, change things up, and you'll bring your bike."


	13. Chapter 13: Barriers

Adding the bike to the mixture added new rules, like getting to the flag before Eliot did, not getting shot, and not wrecking the bike. If anything, Raelyn couldn't say training was boring. "If this bike gets wrecked during this mess, you're paying for it."

"Deal. But if you can, wreck the bike into a partition and not the truck. Number one, less likely to explode. Number two, a truck this old is going to be a pain in the ass to fix, if at all possible."

"Deal."

It was much hard to forecast which strategy would work best with the bike in reference to her goal. She'd often get distracted just trying not to wreck the bike, because at the end of the day, the bike was her priority unless she really was saving someone. She'd feel guilty, but she knew her dad was the same way about the truck.

After a couple hours of unpredictable bike vs. truck vs. barriers vs. gun vs. Dad vs. Daughter, Raelyn was at her wits end. She was going to have to do more than just evade him. She would have to actually mess with his mind. So in the midst of the maze, she pulled out in front of him and turned towards him, so she was facing him head-on. She counted on his instinct of slamming on his breaks. She did a one-eighty and sped towards the flag. Just before she reached it, she did another turn to keep track of him. He wasn't close enough to catch her, and she triumphantly snatched the flag off the pole.

She felt successful until the truck door flew open and slammed shut, producing her father with a stare so livid, it could remove entrails. "Off the bike, now." She dismounted and braced herself as he put himself mere inches from her. "Never again. That was just plain stupid and reckless, you little shit. Are you fucking kidding me? There was no reason for you to, what, gloat like that?"

She shrugged defensively. "I wasn't gloating. I was trying to throw you off."

"Mission fucking accomplished. You know, not everyone would've stopped, Raelyn."

Raelyn was honestly getting irritated."Human instinct will force people to stop. Even so, I turned fast enough, you would've tapped me at worst."

"Are you seriously arguing with me right now?"

She chewed the inside of her cheek and with narrowed eyes, quipped, "What if that flag was a kid."

Somehow, Eliot got even madder. He wasn't truly mad when he was growling . Not when he was yelling either. He was truly angry when he would say as few words as possibly. He simply said, "No."

He began stomping away, too angry to even deal with her anymore. "You can't keep telling me 'it's too dangerous'. Not for this job. I've been 'too dangerous' for five years, Dad."

He stopped, but didn't look at her. There was a heavy sigh. "There is a difference between dangerous and reckless." There was a pause. She knew he wasn't finished. "I can't keep setting broken bones and stitching up stab wounds, Raelyn. There's a difference."

"I'm sorry. I'm trying."

"I know. For the most part, you're doing good. We-we're done for today. Or two."

"I'm going to take Charlie out for a ride. I'll be done in a couple hours."

It was about forty-five minutes later when Eliot wandered out to the field where Raelyn rode Charlie, a charcoal quarter horse he gave her for her ninth birthday. She had barrels set up and was running Charlie around them in an all-too-familiar pattern while a stopwatch bounced on her chest.

Eliot leaned against the fence as she pulled up to a stop at the end of a lap and clicked the watch. "She's still got it," Raelyn told him.

"I'm glad." There was a long silence. "You two made a great team."

"We did."

"I still have all the awards in a box somewhere."

"Great."

"You know y'all could've gotten a lot more if you hadn't quit."

Even with the light fading, he saw her grip tighten on the reins. "You know why I had to." She pulled the reins and directed Charlie to start in the opposite direction.

"You didn't have to." She kept riding away. "You've never been one for apologies."

She stopped and turned. "I didn't-"

"Earlier. With the flag. You said you were sorry."

She dismounted and began to walk Charlie to the barn. "I am."

Eliot followed after her. "That's not like you."

"Neither is you constantly bringing up things we agreed not to talk about."

"Why are you sorry?"

"Let me put Charlie away. I don't wanna talk about this around her."

Raelyn was admittedly disappointed when her father was waiting for her outside the barn. She took a breath, and in her head she felt the tab pop on a can of beer that had been shaken. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"Okay."

"You're my dad. You've done worlds for me. I'm tired of spending most of our time angrily not talking to each other."

"Good."

She crossed her arms. "Of all things, you seem the most upset, well, second most upset, in the fact that I quit barrel racing. Why?"

He sucked in a tense breath through his teeth and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Wow, for once, I'm the one that doesn't want to talk about this. I should go make some dinner." He started to walk away.

"Dad!" It was a demand, a demand with the unfamiliar flavor of desperation.

He turned to face her. Her eyes shined in the dimming light of the setting sun. "Because watching you in barrel-racing was the one of the few times I didn't feel like a failure as a father." He walked away.

"No." It was the same denial a child used when they found out there wasn't any ice cream left...except about a thousand times worse.


	14. Chapter 14: Joining

The next morning, Eliot went into Raelyn's bedroom to wake her up, to find that she wasn't there. Well, that wasn't too unusual, but it wasn't normal for her to make her bed until after breakfast. It was probably nothing. Just as he thought, she was in the kitchen, but something wasn't right. She had her motorcycle jacket on and her bag over her shoulder, headed for the door. "Going somewhere?"

She adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "Home. Portland."

"I said we were taking a break for a day or two. We're not done."

She seemed to be intentionally not looking at him. "Yeah, I am."

"What the hell are you talking about?" She didn't answer. "Hiwoni, Raelyn," he commanded.

Her shoulders slumped. She turned around looking defeated. Her voice shook. "I'm done. I quit. You're getting what you want. I'll go back to Portland, get my stuff together, then come back to Texas, and get a job on some ranch, maybe make this place profitable."

He stared into her eyes. She seemed so unfamiliar, so distant. "Where is this coming from? We've been fighting about this since you were seventeen, and now that we've had a blow out and you're getting your way, you're going to quit?"

She tried to sigh, but it stuck in her throat. "You've always been angry. Angry, I can handle. Angry, I'm used to. But last night, you were disappointed. I never saw that. And I never want to see it again. So-"

"No. Absolutely not." He reached over and took the bag off her shoulder. "You can't live your life for me. I didn't live my life to please my father, and you won't either. We both know, if you walk out now, you're just going to hate me, and I'm not going to take that. I've seen your dedication to this job. I trust that you're doing the best you can. And I've seen the things you can do. You've taken the little things I taught you, and made it your is not what I wanted for you. But I could have done a whole lot worse. Now, take your jacket off, put your bag back in your room, and take some time to relax because day after tomorrow, I'm gonna kick your ass for this mess."

He hadn't seen a smile like that since he'd given her Charlie. She hadn't hugged him that tight since she ran away from her mother. And he didn't regret a thing that lead up to it.

"I may regret this," Eliot said to himself. Raelyn had convinced him that in the midst of their break, they should go out, blow off some steam without getting bruises, so she dragged him to a bar that was also a dance hall, the kind of down-home country place you'd expect in Texas. Every pair of feet had cowboy boots on. It was pretty homey, really.

"You act like you don't do this monthly. You're just uncomfortable because I'm here. Come on, Dad. Have fun. Don't cock-block me, and I'll return the favor."

Eliot cringed as she sauntered into the crowd in her painted-on jeans, cropped tank top, and leather jacket. His eyes followed her curiously as several people seemed to greet her with familiarity, like she came here regularly. Then again, she grew up in this town until fifteen, and she made trips back here a lot to visit Charlie. It wasn't improbable that this was a home bar for her. She made her way to the bar. The bartenders and her seemed very friendly. He saw Raelyn gesture to himself and decided to join her.

The male bartender put out his hand for Eliot to shake. The woman left to take another order. "How ya doin', man? It's not often Jamie brings a guy _in _here."

Raelyn nudged the bartender. "I just work with him, Jack. He's not a boyfriend."

Eliot took a clue from the use of the cover name and story and accepted Jack's hand, "Wes Abernathy, nice to meet you."

"Of course. Jamie doesn't do boyfriends. More like boy toys. And girl toys. Plus, you look like you could be her father."

Through gritted teeth, he agreed, "Don't I?"

"Like I said, Jack," Raelyn said, her voice pitching higher, as she surreptitiously patted Eliot's shoulder to calm him, "I'll take care of the tab for me and Wes tonight. I'll have a rum and coke and he'll have a Shiner beer."

"What?" Eliot wanted to try and argue, but it was a Tuesday so the drinks were delivered immediately. Raelyn took hers and disappeared.

After a second beer, Eliot was actually feeling pretty comfortable, so he went to prowl the dance floor. He was flirting with a petite blonde when he picked up on a conversation behind him.

"That was fun, thanks." It was Raelyn. Then he heard a man laughing. "Alright, cowboy, song's over, you can let go."

"One more dance, sweetheart."

"Why don't you give someone else a turn?"

"Come on, baby, I know you like me."

"You're gonna wanna get your hands off me real soon." Eliot glanced behind him to see a guy pressed up against Raelyn, and she looked like she was on the edge of her temper.

"Come on, baby, you don't gotta play hard to get."

"I told you to get _off _me." She gave him a shove.

"You're gonna pay for that, bitch." He lunged at her and Eliot prepared himself for a show.


	15. Chapter 15: Post-Brawl

Eliot saw Raelyn smirk as the cad went towards her. She kicked him in the head, not even hard, and he went backwards. She kicked him in the face and then the stomach. Before he went all the way to the ground, she yanked him up by the collar and threw him over her shoulder.

Apparently, he had friends, and they weren't happy to see their buddy get his ass handed to him, especially by potential prey. Eliot took the hand of the woman he was flirting with and kissed it. "Pardon me, darlin', if you'll give me one minute, I've got to take care of this."

He stepped over to Raelyn's side and put his fists up. "Hey, Wes, how you doin'?"

"Not bad, Andrews. Hey, this doesn't count as a cock-block, does it?"

"Of course not. And it won't count if your date flees after this?"

"Nah."

"Well, there's two. One for each of us."

"Meet you on the other side."

The buddies were just about as easy to dispatch as their fallen comrade. Eliot helped the bouncers escort the bloody and bruised predators out the door. "I'm sorry about that, Jack. I didn't-"

"Oh, don't worry about it. It's pretty much expected when Jamie comes in. I can see why she brought you along. Half the time, other girls enlist her help to get creeps like that out of here."

Raelyn came over with wet napkins and began wiping the blood of the idiot off Eliot's knuckles. The blonde from earlier walked up to him looking amused. He glanced at Raelyn with concern. "Night's still young," she mouthed, and whisked a fresh drink off into the abyss.

The next morning was less awkward than Eliot figured it would be. Raelyn showed up around seven in the morning in the clothes from the night before, less disheveled than he would have predicted but with the expected smug smirk and swagger. "How was your evening? Did you accomplish what you went out to do?" she asked him.

"Mm-hmm." He poured coffee for the two of them. She dug out a bottle of irish cream and topped off the cups. "How about you?"

"Mission accomplished." She took a sip of coffee. "And I heard a brand new opening line last night."

"And what was that?"

Raelyn cocked her head as she imitated a much deeper southern drawl and register than she truly possessed, "'Pardon me, darlin', but you got some blood on your boots.'"

He wheezed with laughter. "That got your motor runnin'?"

She shrugged. "I applaud most people who approach me post-brawl."

"Can't argue with that. You know last night was a lot more fun and a lot less awkward than I thought it'd be, thanks for dragging me out."

She nodded and raised her cup in a silent "You're welcome."

They'd been in Texas about three and a half weeks by the time they were done. One the way back to Portland, Eliot got a phone call. "Hey, man, y'all headed back soon, right?" It was Hardison.

"Yeah, we're a couple hours out from the city, in fact. What's up? Need me to come by the office?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright, lemme drop Raelyn off, and I'll probably be there about four o'clock."

"Um, actually, bring her with you."

Eliot glanced over at the passenger's seat. Raelyn peered back at him through half-asleep eyes. "Why?"

"We...have something for her."

"What is it?"

"A surprise."

"Hardison?"

"See you at four." Click.

"What's going on?" Eliot got straight to the point as he walked through the front door of Leverage International Headquarters. Raelyn treaded lightly behind him, surprisingly nervous. He knew because she kept tugging at her braid behind her back when she thought no one was looking.

Parker and Hardison were standing next to a work table covered in paperwork, maps, and blueprints. "We have a job."

He cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at Raelyn. "Right." He paused waiting for explanation, but none was offered. "So what did you want me to bring Raelyn for? What do you have for her?" His voice already carried a tone of warning.

Parker crossed her arms. Her tone was guarded but authoritative. "A role in that job."

He reflexively put his arm back to push Raelyn further back behind him. "No. No way. No way in hell. You fuckin' kidding me? No."

"Yes." Raelyn stepped out to the side of him and looked at Parker expectantly.

Eliot turned to Raelyn. "No." Even to himself, he sounded like a defiant child.

She cocked her head, and told him in a condescending tone, "I don't think it's your decision."

He turned back to Parker and Hardison and tapped a demanding finger on the table. "I'm her father, I have a say in this decision. I say no."

"Parker and I say yes."

"And I say yes," Raelyn added. "You have one vote as a team member, and one vote as Dad. Still three against two. I'm in."

"No, you're not."

Raelyn stepped back from the table. "So what the hell was this training for?"

Eliot stepped to be even with her and held up a warning finger. "Don't you talk to me like that."

"Stop treating me like a child," she retorted. "Is it your training you don't have faith in or is it me?"

He pulled her back from the table a few more steps and lowered his voice. "That's not what this is about, Rae."

"Then what the hell is it about?!" She raised her voice to invalidate his precaution.

"He's afraid you'll cloud his judgement. In his mind, there's a huge difference between protecting his team and protecting you." Everyone turned towards the new voice. Nate had come seemingly out of nowhere.


	16. Chapter 16: Conflicted

"What the hell, man? You been taking pop-up-out-of-nowhere lessons from Parker? Damn!" Eliot seemed, if at all possible, even more irritated. "Tell these guys we can't do this." When Nate didn't say anything, Eliot glared at Parker and Hardison with a look of betrayal. "They brought you in to convince me, didn't they? You gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me!"

"Let's take a walk, Eliot."

"But-Shit. Okay, no planning while I'm gone, dammit. Raelyn, I mean it, I'll know."

"Eliot," Nate insisted.

They walked down the basement that was set up as one of many rec rooms around the office. "Nate, I _can't_ do this."

"Do you trust us?"

Eliot shrugged. "Yeah, but-"

"Do you trust her?"

"As much as a father's going-"

"Do you trust yourself?"

"Nope." He'd responded immediately, a slight crack in his voice.

"Eliot, you have to know this is the safest way to do this."

Eliot finally looked up and made eye contact with Nate. "What? What do you mean?"

"You're still terrified she's going to get hurt. You want to bury your head in the sand and pray every second that she doesn't show up on your doorstep bleeding again. But this is an opportunity to watch her in action when you're right there to jump in and shield her, when you've got people you trust within reach to pull her out...It kills you, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Have you ever noticed that whenever you're both around other people, you rarely have her out of arm's reach?" Eliot didn't have an answer. "And she stays within arm's reach. The only time was when you two were too angry to be in the same room with each other." Eliot stared off, thinking about it.

"Would you let Sam do something like this?" Eliot wasn't sure if that was the best move, but he was desperate.

"If Sam were still around, there wouldn't be something like this."

"Don't give me that crap. You did the same thing for IYS. Would you let him do it?"

"Not for IYS."

"Nate!"

"You mean like I let Parker do it?"

"That's not the same."

"As much as you don't like to put it that way, Eliot, we are a family. We take care of each other. We took care of Maggie. We took care of Olivia. We took care of Aimee. We took care of Teresa. We took care of Archie. We will take care of Raelyn."

Eliot gripped Nate's shoulder. "You willing to bet you life on that?"

"Always."

Eliot stood up and glared into Nate's eyes. "I'm serious, Nate. Deadly serious. This is not the time for you take risks. If anything, _anything_ happens to her, none of you means a damn thing to me, you get that?"

And Eliot walked away before Nate could argue.

When Eliot came back upstairs with Nate following a few paces behind, Raelyn, Parker and Hardison were waiting at the table expectantly. He let them stew in tense silence for about half a minute. "All right, fine."

"Ha ha! You guys owe me five bucks a pop!" Parker exclaimed.

Raelyn held up a hand and looked behind Eliot. "Wait, is Nate bleeding?"

"Nope," Nate responded.

"Damn," Hardison and Raelyn said in unison, handing over ten bucks a piece to Parker.

Nate came over to Parker's side. "Alright, gimme my cut." Parker, still bubbly, handed him half.

Eliot growled and shook his head. "Seriously?" The gamblers shrugged. "Alright, what do you have for her?"

"Roper," Parker answered.

Eliot ran his hands through his hair. "Seriously?! We can't get Tara or somebody? Sophie?"

"Tara's booked. Sophie's running a show for another six weeks."

"And Raelyn's a little more fitting to this mark's...taste," Nate added. Eliot almost gagged.

"Sure, he'll go to a bar with me, get into a brawl, and pick up one night stands with me, but Heaven forbid we work together and he watch me use my sexual prowess for something useful." She'd said it quietly, but everyone heard. Everyone looked at him with the utmost of judgemental expressions.

"It was once," he defended. Everyone turned back to the table, judgment having not faded.

"Alright," Parker started to lay out the general plan, "Raelyn distracts him while Hardison gets me into the vault and Eliot distracts the guards."

"I don't see why-" Eliot started, but Nate stopped him.

"Stop."

"So did Eliot leave everyone in one piece?" came a chipper female voice from the front door.

"Yep, you owe Parker ten bucks," Nate answered.

"Ten? You got him to agree to it _and_ stayed in one piece? That's unexpected."

"Seriously?" Eliot hissed. "And I thought Sophie had a show to run."

"Mark's tastes," Nate repeated and Eliot made a noise of disgust as Sophie handed Parker ten bucks, and Parker gave Nate five.

"Well, since we're all here, why don't we all go out to dinner. Then later I can take Raelyn shopping for something suitable to wear."

And the room stopped. Raelyn took a defensive stance, glancing between Eliot and Sophie. Eliot glanced between Sophie and Raelyn. No one moved, except for Sophie, who seemed to have no idea why the room changed.

"What is that supposed to-"

"Hey, Rae, there's a foosball table downstairs, why don't we play a game while Sophie catches up with everyone else?" Before she could argue, he put his arm around her shoulders and guided her away from Sophie.


	17. Chapter 17: Taking Orders

For reasons he couldn't understand, he found himself with the rest of his team listening to Raelyn seduce the Mark over the com. This was phase one. If she got him to agree to a date the following night, they could get the job done. It was a relatively simple job, and Eliot couldn't understand still why they insisted they needed Raelyn.

"This is just one part. We need his files to deal with another job," Hardison explained.

"Are you going to need her for that job too?" Eliot asked, trying to sound accusatory.

"Maybe," Hardison snapped back.

"Are you listening to this, Eliot? Did you teach her this?" Sophie asked.

"I was avoiding that as a matter of fact. And no, I didn't teach her...this. Not directly."

"She's good." Raelyn had him hooked in a couple of minutes and now she was expertly laying the groundwork for the distraction date. Eliot was too nauseated and kind of ashamed to be proud. Okay, he was a little proud.

"You should see her with women," he murmured. They all looked at him curiously. "Please, don't ask."

Raelyn succeeded in getting the date, but no one had any doubt she would. She went dress shopping with Parker since Sophie had rubbed her the wrong way and she found Parker's quirkiness endearing.

The fun got a little complicated when it turned out the date would be in the Mark's home/office, so Raelyn would be with him in the same building while Parker was weaseling around his files. "At least we can all take one car," Raelyn quipped.

Eliot demanded Nate come along; he needed another dad along. The day of the job dragged on, but when it was time to head out, Raelyn came downstairs. Hair in a french twist, usual coarse jewelry absent, feet held in four inch platform heels, body encased in a tight black cocktail dress. She was hardly recognizable. The only thing that was in tune with her normal attire was the black nail polish.

As she walked downstairs, Hardison thought it would be funny to blast "Cherry Pie" through the speakers. Eliot whipped around with a poised fist. "I will rip off your hands, put them in a blender, and feed them to you through a straw." Still laughing, Hardison cut the music.

"Eliot," Nate reprimanded, handing him a beer.

Raelyn looked surprisingly comfortable. "On that note, let's go take advantage of the southern charm my daddy gave me," she purred, accentuating her southern drawl and adding a shimmy of her hips.

"I'm being punished. This is it. This is how I'm paying for-"

"Alright, Angel, why don't we stop this apocalypse and then you'll be rid of the gypsy curse and be a man absolved of your sins," Raelyn drolled to cut him off.

"I hate that stupid show," Eliot spat.

"The stupid show you just understood the reference to?" she laughed.

"Wait a minute," Hardison piped up, "did someone not me just make a nerdy reference to a TV show?" Nate and Parker started cackling. "I didn't think that'd be your genre, though."

Raelyn shrugged, "I went through a thing in high school. Plus, I picked up some stuff from the fight scenes."

"Yeah, like how to kick your closet door off its hinges."

"Like you've never accidently broken-"

"He broke a screen door while beating someone up once," Parker added helpfully.

"But I fixed the door afterwards!" But Raelyn was cackling anyway. "Why do you even need heels? You're already tall."

"Taller than you, Napoleon," she sniped quietly. The other members of the team tried to ignore the bubbling tension. Raelyn just smirked with satisfaction as her father glared at her.

"That's not right," Hardison muttered.

They were mid-con and this was the last thing Eliot wanted to hear. "You better right whatever it is then!" he hissed, quietly patrolling the property.

"I am working on it! Will you calm down?"

"No!"

"Eliot," Nate's voice jumped in to quell him.

"Hardison's right. Something isn't right. I think someone's been here before us," Parker interjected.

"Wait, everyone be quiet for a second," Eliot commanded calmly. "There's interference on the coms." He paused, listening intently. "Everybody out. Raelyn, Parker, get out now."

"What?" Parker was incredulous.

Nate jumped in, "Eliot's right. Everybody out. This is more than the in-and-out job we thought it was."

"Are you kidding me?" Raelyn hissed.

"Raelyn, are you out?" Eliot asked.

"No, I excused myself to the bathroom. We are not pulling out."

"I'm sorry, Raelyn, this is too-"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Ford, at no point in accepting this job did I agree to take orders from you."

"Wow." Hardison was shocked.

So was Eliot, "Raelyn, you can't-"

Raelyn cut him off. "We're running low on time, here. Parker, what's the play?"

"Proceed with caution," Parker answered.

"I swear, Raelyn, if you-"

"Going back in, turning down the com."

"Eliot has a kid, Sophie's not here, and yet everything feels the same," Nate sighed.

Things were tense and unnaturally quiet for a while until Parker finally called in, "Alright, I'm out. Hardison, over my tracks?"

"I gotcha, momma."

"Raelyn, get out," Eliot pushed.

"Darlin', would you mind gettin' me a refill on this champagne? Thank you. I can't cut off now, he's going to think something's wrong. I have to let it end naturally. I thought you were a professional. Calm down. Wait for me in the truck. Thank you so much, darlin'."

It was another half an hour or so before Raelyn came to the end of the block, heels in hand, looking tired. Nate had already gotten into the van with Parker and Hardison and left. Raelyn pulled herself into the truck with a grunt. "Wow, even for a job, that was the dullest date I've ever been on." She dug through her purse and exchanged her date jewelry for the usual leather, onyx, and spikes. "Oh, I feel like me again. Now let's see if we can make this thing really useful." Eliot watched with horror as she took a knife and cut a diamond into each side of the dress, exposing flesh from the ribs to the hips.

"Wh-wh-why is that necessary? You could have used that for another job," Eliot stuttered.

As she pulled on knee-high combat boots, she explained. "I get a new outfit for every job that I have to pull this crap for. It's a personal reward. I deal with dull people, I get a new outfit. Now, there's a bar about twenty minutes from here on the way home, can you drop me off?"

"Aren't you tired?"

"The prospect of actually getting some action out of this dress will energize me."

"Check-in in the morning."

"Of course."


	18. Chapter 18: Memory

A/N: Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence.

It's funny, the things that flash across your mind when you think you're about to die.

Raelyn pressed herself against a wall as she heard footsteps. The memories started when she heard Barren get taken out. He was the last member of the team they sent in for this job. There were nine of them, and Raelyn was the only one left. She looked down at herself. Around half her bones her broken. Her clothes were soaked in her own blood. She wasn't sure how she was standing. She'd taken the blow off of an explosion. She'd been thrown into several walls. It was possible she'd been hit by a forklift once or twice or four times. The details were getting fuzzy. She'd definitely been physically pummeled several times. It had been two months since Raelyn and Eliot reconciled their differences, and he turned her into his proud protege. It appeared to be over.

It's funny, the things that flash across your mind when you think you're about to die.

One of the memories could've been her saving grace. When she heard Barren die, she remembered the round white paging device strapped to her thigh. She saw its origin in her mind clear as day.

She had just moved in with her father the day before. He pressed it into her hand; it was the size of a golf ball. "Keep this on you at all times."

"Even when-"

"All. Times."

"If anything happens, and you need me, for anything. Press this, and I'll be there."

"But what if-"

"I'll be there."

It had been eight years. But she had always carried it with her. It had been eight years. She had never pressed it, even when she got hurt. She figured if she could make it to him, she didn't need him to come. It had been eight years, and she pressed it with what little she had left.

It's funny, the things that flash across your mind when you think you're about to die.

For Raelyn, it was a memory, an odd memory. It wasn't even the most pleasant memory, but it was somehow comforting as she drifted to and from reality. She was sixteen. She had a boy in her room, and they were making out on her bed when she heard the house alarm being disarmed. She pulled away and shushed the boy. "Rae?" Her father's voice penetrated the air, much to her chagrin.  
"I'm upstairs," she answered, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. She straightened her clothes and dragged the boy to her closet, demanding he keep quiet. She leaped to her bed, grabbing a book and starting to "read" it.  
Her bedroom door opened, and she looked up innocently. "Hey, Rae," her father said pleasantly as he came inside. He looked so glad to see her.  
"Hey, Dad." She closed her book and sat up. "What's up?"  
"I have a few days clear and I..." His face changed like he felt something was wrong. "Why does..." He seemed to answer his own question before he finished it. His eyes narrowed. Her face dropped. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and wrenched the closet door. She flinched. He looked back at her. Her face contorted with guilt. He took the boy by the collar, and glared at her, his lips tight with anger. "Don't move," he warned her as he lead the boy out.  
She listened painfully as she heard her father toss the boy out the front door and stomp back upstairs. He reappeared at her bedroom door, belt already off and in hand. She started to stand shakily, she knew what was coming. "Hands flat on the wall," he ordered.  
She obeyed, squeezing her eyes shut as she pressed her hands against the wall. She jumped at the first few strikes, clenching her hands into fists. It seemed to go on forever, but finally it was over. He snatched her by the shoulder and brought her face to his. "If I ever catch you pulling something like this again, you're getting a lot worse than the belt, am I clear?"  
"Yes, sir." He began walking away. "I'm sorry, Dad." It was almost too quiet to hear, but she knew he heard him because he stopped for a moment. She wanted him to respond. He didn't really. She noticed his shoulders relax, but that was it. Then he left.

A unique, gut-wrenching guilt had plagued her that day. She was lucky to see her dad once a week, and she had ruined that one for a boy she didn't give a damn about. He had called her down later, and she hoped he had forgiven her. It was hard to tell. He had made souffle. Seemed like forgiveness on the surface, but he had a tendency to bake, and bake desserts specifically, when he was in a sour mood. They were uncomfortably silent as they ate in front of the TV. Then she remembered waking up in the middle of the night curled up halfway on his lap on the couch with his arms tightly around her like he was afraid someone would take her.

It's funny, the things that flash across your mind when you think you're about to die.

Even the memories were starting to get foggy. The footsteps were getting closer. The guards knew she was here. They knew she was the only one left. When they found her, she was done.

"All that running, just to die," the guard chuckled. Raelyn took way too much energy to look up at him. "Honestly, I think it'd be fun to just toy with you as you die. Doesn't look like you have a lot of time left anyway. How did the girl manage to-"

A mass hit him and he went to the ground. Raelyn closed her eyes momentarily out of weakness. She heard the impacts of flesh and grunts. She finally looked up when she heard a low, soft voice, "God, baby, what did they do to you?" She looked up to see her dad, standing there like a damn guardian angel.


	19. Chapter 19: In Her Youth

A/N: Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence.

"Daddy," she said weakly but filled with relief. The relief and speaking apparently took it out of her. Her knees buckled, and he caught her.

"Dammit, Rae. Baby, what are you doing here? A job like this needs at least six."

"There were others. Eight. All gone. Ambush. Set up," Raelyn choked out with wet breaths.

"Okay, okay." He started rearranging his grip on her as she slipped. She gasped with every movement. "Alright, baby, we gotta get you to a hospital."

"No!" The rejection was loud for someone so weak. "You can't take me to a hospital!"

He tried to bring her nearly unrecognizable face to his. "Raelyn, you don't have a choice." She started to pull away from him with a strength only desperation could muster. "Raelyn, you're going to die!"

"I will! If it means I don't have to go." Her voice went from roar to terrified whisper.

And he knew she meant it. He remembered when he learned of her hatred of hospitals. He had her for a few days one summer when she was twelve years old. He took her to a lake. He showed her the joy of jumping off rocks and low branches into the water. He should've known better. She was an adrenaline junkie. She started going towards higher branches. She got focused too much on height and not enough on where she would land. He took his attention off her to grab drinks from the cooler.

"Dad!" He turned and looked just in time to see her jump. He glanced down to where she would land. There was a medium-sized boulder a few inches under the surface of the water. He started running even though he knew he wouldn't make it. He heard the splash, crack, the shocked howl.

He snatched her out of the water. It seemed she was lucky and had only broken her arm. He left everything behind and put her in the truck. As they started driving, she asked, "Where are we going?"

She was clearly in pain, and this was also the day he also realized he'd never seen her cry. Even with a freshly broken arm, no tears. "We're going to the hospital, sweetheart."

"I don't wanna go to the hospital!"

"Sweetie, they need to fix your arm."

"Can't you do it?!"

He didn't answer. He couldn't tell her, "I wasn't good enough to protect you. How could I fix it?"

"Daddy, please."

"Why don't you wanna go to a hospital?"

"I...just don't."

"That's not a reason, honey. It's not as bad as you're making it. They're gonna make everything better."

Of course, that wasn't an acceptable to Raelyn. The truck door opened. He watched in disbelief as she defiantly rolled out of the truck at seventy miles an hour. It was that moment that he knew that if she survived and was still conscious, he couldn't take her to the hospital. She knew how to win the argument.

She also knew how to escape a moving vehicle apparently. She had landed in a ditch and rolled quite a ways. Yet it took her twenty four years to learn how to fall out a window. She had managed to break her arm further, fracture her ribs and stayed conscious.

That was the first of many times he had to be a doctor without the white coat and ability to say, "I can't treat her, she's my daughter." She had never told him why.

This time, she didn't have a moving vehicle to escape, but if she struggled enough, she would kill herself. "Okay, okay, calm down. No hospital. Hang on to me, honey." He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Vance, I'm sending you coordinates. I need an emergency team." As he texted the coordinates, he noticed Raelyn getting heavier. She was losing consciousness. He pocketed his phone and checked her pulse. Her heartbeat and her breathing were weak, but still there. He hoisted her up, so her head shoulders rested one arm, her knees on the other. As he began carrying her out of the warehouse, her blood soaked through his shirt. It made him nauseous.


	20. Chapter 20: RLS

Everything hurt. That was Raelyn's first thought as she gained consciousness. The second was the horrible smell. It smelled like bleach or ammonia. Her body jolted as she registered the harsh cleansers that notoriously permeated hospitals. Her eyes snapped open. She pulled in a painful horrified gasp and began desperately trying to wrestle off the monitors, IV and oxygen mask.

"Raelyn? Raelyn. Raelyn!" She didn't register his presence. So he leaned over her and pressed her down by her shoulders. "Rae, baby, it's not a hospital. It's okay. I called a buddy."

"Where am I?" she demanded quietly. The mask muffled her.

"Technically, it's something of a military infirmary."

"Dad, that's a fancy word for hospital."

"I know. But they're my people. They're the reason I know how to fix you. This time you were a little too...much for just me, for just any one person."

She gently pulled the mask down. He didn't see all the fear he expected. There was guilt and shame. "Dad, how long was I out?"

He sucked his teeth and looked at his watch. "Thirty-eight days, eleven hours, forty-seven minutes."

"How screwed are we?"

"No one knows who won't keep quiet. Everything is okay."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "I'm sorry, Dad. I really screwed up."

"No, you didn't."

She looked up at him, surprised. "What?"

"You realize you were the youngest member of that team, the only female, and the only one to make it out alive?"

"Because I called my dad," she argued.

"Because you were smart enough to get help instead of letting pride kill you." Her lips parted in thought. "I've told you a few times, overconfidence-"

"Will kill you faster than a bullet," she finished.

"Asking for help saved you. You can't do a damn thing dead."

"Right." She sighed. Then something registered. She pulled at her shirt and searched around. "Dog tags! Where are my dog tags?!"

He snickered as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the silver chain with the two military issued tags. "Technically, they're my dog tags. You never served."

She looked embarrassed. "Did you want them back?" she asked quietly.

He handed them towards her as an answer. She looped them around her neck and automatically tucked them underneath the medical gown. "How long have you had them?"

"About six years. Kept waiting for you to miss them."

"Why'd you take them?" It was a question of curiosity rather than accusation.

She took a minute before she answered. "Good luck charm."

He glanced critically at the monitors around her. "Good luck, huh?"

She shrugged. "You showed up in time, didn't you?"

"Thank you." She gave him a questioning look. "For keeping that on you like I asked." She shrugged again. He leaned forward. "Speaking of things you always have on you, nice tattoo."

She slumped backwards onto the bed. The tattoo on her shoulder blade, expertly covered by her muscle shirts at all times, flashed across her mind: Two crossed machetes with the letters R. L. S. over them in script. "Aw, come on,Dad, can the Reckless Lecture wait?"

He put his hands up. "Hey, hey, I'm not criticizing. How long have you had it?"

"I got it for my nineteenth birthday."

"RLS isn't some guy's initials, is it?"

Her face contorted in a look of disgust. "Ew, Dad, no. You know me better than that."

Eliot couldn't help but laugh. She was right. She would never be that attached to anyone. "So what does it mean?"

She looked oddly sentimental for a moment. "Reckless Little Shit."


	21. Chapter 21: Just As Bad

Four months passed after Raelyn had been hospitalized. Eliot had taken it surprisingly well. Vance was a big help. He had gotten into the habit of calling Raelyn and Eliot in as a team to handle jobs for him. Working beside Raelyn gave Eliot a higher sense of security. It gave Raelyn a chance to show off.

It was a literal retrieval mission this time. They were in an empty office building that had been very quickly and recklessly abandoned and they were snagging hard drives to track down the previous owners. It was a simple job, but it needed to be done quietly and off the radar. Eliot was the one that Vance trusted for this. And he liked watching Raelyn work with him.

"Dad, I hear something. Where are you?"

"Top floor."

"I'm two floors down. Hold position, I'm coming up."

"Vance, I need eyes. Do we have company?"

Vance's voice came through the ear pieces with an exasperated sigh. "Looks like. Did you guys get the drives?"

"Dad went through first, I swept behind. I got about half a dozen that weren't damaged beyond readability. I'm almost there. Shit, there's definitely someone else here. They sound pissed and close."

"I'm coming to get you, Rae," Eliot said.

"I'm close," she responded.

He jogged to the stairwell, and she hopped up the last couple steps as he reached the door. He'd barely registered other footsteps when she shoved him out of the stairwell and into the wall of the of the hallway. Gunshots rang out. He took hold of her and dragged her to the nearest room.

"I heard the gunshots. Status report?" Vance asked through the coms.

"Alive and uninjured on both accounts," Eliot answered. "Right?" he mouthed to Raelyn as they crouched in a corner next to a file cabinet. She nodded.

"I think there's more than the guys in the stairwell," she said.

"Yeah, probably," Eliot agreed.

She looked around. "Do you have anything explosive on you?"

He shook his head. "This was supposed to be a quiet pickup."

She pushed herself to her feet and started pulling paper files out of the file cabinet. "I'm with an internationally notorious retrieval specialist and neither of us have weapons and we're probably too outnumbered for it to matter. What mistake did I make to end up here? You know, there's probably a list of shit."

"What are you doing?" he asked as she whipped a zippo lighter out of her pocket, struck a flame, and ran it along a handful of files.

"Hopefully, creating a decent smoke screen." As the flames began consuming the paper, she chucked it out in the hallway. She took a fistful of Eliot's shirt and ran towards the stairs with an arm load of files. After the second landing the whole building shook.

"What the hell?" Eliot exclaimed.

"Raelyn, Eliot, whoever's there set bombs. The building's coming down you need to get out," Vance told them.

"Fan-fucking-tastic," Raelyn grumbled. Footsteps thundered closer from both above and below. She lit more files and threw them in both directions. "We're just going to feel our way through. They can't see us, and we can just stick to the wall."

Eliot shrugged. He didn't have a better plan. There were too many to fight, especially looking after Raelyn at the same time. She took hold of him and ran through the smoke. They were six floors from the bottom when another blast yanked him out of her grip. Smoke from the spreading fire and the explosions made it hard to see. She couldn't find him. "Dad?"

"I'm fine. Keep going."

So she ran. Two more blasts knocked her around before she escaped the building. She sprinted two blocks away to the van where Vance was waiting. She shoved half a dozen salvaged drives into his hands. "Where's my dad?" she asked looking around.

She pressed the com to her ear. "Dad?" Silence. "Dad, answer." And there was none. "Dad?!" Another blast from the distance answered her. She leapt from the van and ignored Vance's calls after her.

He grabbed her. "Raelyn, I can't let you go in there. I got guys that are trained for this. I've seen Eliot take a lot of hits, I'm sure he's fine."

She pushed against him despite his reassurances. "Get away from me! I need to find him!"

"Raelyn! Raelyn, listen to me!"

She took hold of him in a painful grip and threw him into the van with every ounce of force she had. She raced back to the building which had finally collapsed. There was no sign of her dad. Her chest started to get tight. She dug frantically through the rubble, screaming for him.

Finally, she unearthed the battered, sooty body of her father. Her chest got tighter. "Dad?!" He was intact, but he wasn't breathing. Her hands were shaking too much to take a pulse. "Dad, wake up!" She took fistfuls of his shirt and shook him violently. Her chest finally constricted to the point that she could hardly breathe. The sobs finally heaved her body as she pounded his chest. "Dammit, Dad! You can't leave me!" She hugged him tightly, still crying hopelessly.

"So you can cry," a gravelly voice mused.

Raelyn looked up to see shining blue eyes staring down at her above a dusty smirk. She clawed at him angrily. "You son of a bitch! You jerk! You can't do that to me!"

He swiped half-heartedly at her hands. "Alive but injured, baby." She stopped hurting him, but clung to him, still bawling.

"Eliot, how bad are you?" Vance asked.

"Broken leg, ribs, and clavicle. The last two may not be the building's fault."

"I have an emergency team on the way, buddy."

Eliot couldn't help but notice Raelyn hadn't calmed down, still crying with no end in sight. He put in the effort to put his arms around her and squeezed. "I know, baby. I'm sorry. It's okay." And she still wouldn't stop.

Eliot hated himself for taking so long to realize that losing him, especially to the job, would destroy her even worse than losing her would destroy him.


	22. Chapter 22: Goodbye Andi

Warning: This chapter contains minor character death.

Several weeks after Raelyn's meltdown, Eliot had healed. As usual, she never acknowledged that day, and he avoided bringing it up. Vance kept calling them in for jobs. Eliot knew he was doing it to keep Raelyn busy and help her cope. The two had developed a fondness for each other.

Eliot jogged along the strangely quiet hallway. Muffled thuds sounded before a Raelyn stepped out of a room a few feet from him. She was splattered with blood from head to toe. At his look of horror, she shook her head. "Don't worry. It's not all mine."

"Raelyn, you were supposed to leave them live!"

"They're alive, just unconscious and kinda bloody. Come on, we have about thirty seconds before the monitors come back online."

He nodded as they ran in tandem towards their exit. "Meet at the bunker?" She nodded as they separated, turning separate ways. Especially on jobs, they wouldn't leave anywhere together. Or meet up at the same time somewhere.

"How long were you waiting?" Raelyn asked, tucking her motorcycle helmet under her arm.

"Twenty seven minutes," Eliot answered.

"That works. So did you get what you needed, Colonel Vance?" She nodded towards the uniformed man next to her father.

"I did, sweetie, thank you." Eliot saw Raelyn twitch at being called "sweetie", but he knew she wouldn't call him out. He had done a lot for them, including keeping Raelyn and Eliot's kinship a secret. "I guess I owe you one."

She shook her head. "It's always a pleasure working with you Colonel. I hope you know I will always be on call to give you a hand, sir."

"And you, Miss Spencer. I'm glad to hear it." He reached out to shake her hand.

She accepted it. "Raelyn, please."

Eliot and Vance shook hands. "Always nice to see you, Vance."

"That's a lot of blood," Vance commented. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

She waved him off. "Nothing a shower and first aid kit won't fix."

Eliot nudged her shoulder. "You know I'm going to check on that later."

She had an unamused expression and sighed. "Yeah, and on that note, I'm going to head home. And then to a bar, probably."

"You know, I could go for a post-job drink. Maybe we could all go out for a drink?" Vance suggested.

"Sounds good. Meet at the pub in an hour?"

"Sure," she said shortly as she stepped away. Moments later, they heard her motorcycle start and pull away.

"You enjoy her being so uncomfortable."

"I do," Eliot chuckled.

"Why the discomfort? Is it me? Is it about the job where the building came down?"

"No, no. Of course not. She loves you. She just has a hard time balancing 'work mode' and 'dad mode'."

"Oh, then the pub will be a blast for you."

"Actually, that's where she's going to pay me back. She's quite the pick-up artist. It's creepy."

"But you're also kind of proud?"

"Hell yes."

"So what was that thing about checking the first aid thing? Do you really think she'd hide injuries from you? I mean, she used to have you treat them."

"Yeah, we've always hidden things from each other. I mean, less lately, but I think she's starting to close up on me again. I think it has something to do with that one job, but I also think it's something else. I wanna talk to her about it, but usually if she's keeping it wrapped up, me even asking is going to cause a fight."

"Razor's edge with you two, ain't it? What if you brought it up with someone around, like me, so she couldn't cause a scene?"

"She would kill me in my sleep."

"Okay, so we won't be doing that."

"Nope."

Eliot opened the door to Raelyn's place. "Rae?"

"I'm up," came a groan from the living room.

He walked in to find her reclining on her couch in the same jeans, tank top, and jacket from the night before. "Went right back to sleep after I called?"

"Yup." She yawned, stretched, and slowly sat up.

"Never even made it to bed, huh?"

"Not _my_ bed, no."

Surprisingly, he was laughing. "Vance was impressed with your little pick up show."

She cackled. "Good. I hope he learned something."

"He's married with kids, Rae."

"Gross."

"So..." He started as he pulled the envelope he got out of his P. O. box that morning out of his back pocket. "We gotta talk about something"

Her eyes went from drowsy to suspicious. "This is never good."

"Sugar coating has never really been a thing with us, so I'm just going to rip the bandaid off." He sat down on the bare coffee table. "Your mom's dead. Car accident." He reached for her hand to offer some comfort.

"I know," she said dryly. She gestured to the envelope. "They sent me one too."

"And you didn't say anything?!"

She pushed herself off the couch and went into the kitchen. "Didn't seem important."

"What?!"

"She's dead. Nothing we can do about it." He heard the beer crack open in the other room. He wanted to tell himself it was grieving. But he couldn't deny she never drank before noon unless a topic like Andi came up. Andi rarely just came up, though. He always brought her up.

"Rae, she was your mother," he pressed.

"Get out." It was sharp but quiet. He knew it was dangerous, but he ignored it. He got to his feet and joined her in the kitchen.

"She raised you for the first fourteen years when I couldn't be there."

She didn't even acknowledge that he came into the room, wouldn't look at him. "Providing food and shelter is not raising a child."

He sighed. "Raelyn, it wasn't all bad. You had to have some good memories growing up."

"None of them involved her. Maybe a few cool birthday presents. Not much to hang on to."

The words were half way out of his mouth by the time he realized the damage he had done. "You gonna be this cold when I die?!" He knew what was coming, and he let it happen. Beer bottle still mostly full and in hand, she swung. He felt the impact in his jaw. It wasn't debilitating, but it did hurt for several reasons.

She started screaming, "I was relieved, okay?! She's gone, and I don't have to deal with a woman who resented my entire existence anymore. I'm returning the favor by not even pretending to care. I didn't go to her funeral and lie about what a great mother she was. But you had to ruin it." He opened his mouth to apologize. Her tone dropped, "You need to leave."

"Raelyn, I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing to say. But I'm worried about you. I have you and my team. You don't seem to have anyone but me to connect-Where are you going?"

She had set down the half empty beer bottle, pulled her jacket closer, and dug through the pocket for her keys. "You're not leaving, or shutting up, so I will."

He sighed. "I'm going, Raelyn." There was a dread in him akin to the day he found out she was retrieving as he closed her door behind him. And just like that day, he knew it was his own fault.


	23. Chapter 23: Bonnie & Clyde

Eliot felt remarkably hurt that contact with his daughter had been reduced to "Still alive" texts at the end of the day. She used to text him every time she started and ended a job, but apparently now that was just too much for her. He knew she was working though, and she was paying very close attention his start and end job texts. His first aid supplies were disappearing. She was coming over while he was working and taking the things she needed to tend to herself. He didn't mind her coming over when he wasn't around, and he was glad she was taking care of herself. He was worried, though. He was sure she would come to him if the injuries needed more than a little first aid, but the amount of sedatives that were disappearing was concerning. The vision of white walls accompanying the sound of an EKG machine flashed across his mind, but he shook it off.

Raelyn was excited to finally have gotten a bigger job. For the last several weeks, it had been simple pickup and drop offs of "sensitive" packages. As she stepped into the spacious warehouse, she wondered if it was sound that they hired her solo for this, but she wasn't too worried. Sometimes, people hired solos to keep the job especially quiet. There weren't guards either, but there were plenty of reasons for that. A lot of people nowadays didn't do physical guards in their warehouses because they were visible and tipped people off that something valuable was inside. There were probably cameras, but by the time anyone got there, she'd be gone. She was especially good at escaping boobytraps as well.

The more she thought about it, however, the faster she wanted to get the job done, since she wasn't the type to flake on a job just because things got hinky. When weren't things hinky?

She pulled detonators out of her bag and started placing them around the inside perimeter of the warehouse. They wouldn't cause a huge explosion, just one that would send a message, but she had a time limit anyway. As the seconds ticked by, Raelyn felt more and more uneasy, and she couldn't place why. She was more than halfway done, so she shrugged it away.

Then she heard movement. Someone was in the warehouse with her. "Look," she called out, "I'm just a messenger here. And killin' me ain't gonna delete the message." The movement got stronger, louder. They were getting closer. She whipped around, detonators replaced with a knife in her hand. She made eye contact. And her heart stopped.

"I'm not here to kill you, baby." Before her stood a dark Latin man with deceptively bright eyes and smile.

"David," she breathed.

He was her first everything. It was shortly after she moved in with her dad when she was fifteen; she met David, a boy almost as mischievous as she was. They were a teenage Bonnie &amp; Clyde in school. But two years later, when she was taking steps to start retrieving and she knew romantic ties were not a good idea, she decided to break up with him. To say the least, he didn't take it well.

"Is she here too?" she asked, her shaking voice giving away a shaming amount of fear.

His gravelly laugh responded. "Of course she is. She's missed you."

Josalin was in the game, so when Raelyn met her at nineteen, her heart walls were down. It felt good to connect with someone who put the job first, just as she did. Unlike Raelyn, Josalin had a boss. Over a year and half, she wanted to introduce Raelyn to him. He was impressed with her work, she already had a reputation, and had a job he thought the two lovers could team up on.

It had taken over a year for Raelyn to ask, "Who is this guy? You've never told me his name."

"Oh, I didn't realize," Josalin giggled. And she spoke the name that haunted Raelyn since she was eleven, "Damien Moreau."

She knew the day it happened. Her dad had come to see her right after. It was a Thursday afternoon, and he hadn't called her mom to tell he was coming by. He just showed up and asked her if he could take Raelyn out for the evening. Andi had said yes, as long as she got to school in the morning. He kept a hand on her the entire evening. It wasn't too abnormal, but Raelyn could sense the change in him, feel it. While he kept her close, he wouldn't look at her face. His breathing had been erratic. He took her to the park, roller skating, a movie, ice cream. He packed it all in the five hours he had, like he was trying to make up for something.

The name she figured out after a while. It was the name he groaned when he had nightmares.

When Josalin spoke his name, Raelyn made an excuse and left. She never tried to contact Josalin again, never answered her messages. She found a way to quietly occasionally check up on her, the way she knew her dad had done with Moreau.

It was a few months after she left Josalin that she found out that Josalin and David found each other and got together. She checked up on them more often after that, but eventually relaxed, focusing on her dad and her job. It appeared they'd been waiting for her to let her guard down. Like now.


	24. Chapter 24: A Message For Daddy

Warning: This chapter contains mild sexual assault.

David lunged at her. She knew Josalin had to have educated him about her style, and when faced with fighting him, she was already shaky. She swiped at him with the knife. He caught her arm and ripped the knife from her hand. She decided a fight wasn't what she wanted, and decided to make a run for it. This job was obviously some kind of setup.

She turned towards the door and ran, but his calloused hand caught her ankle. He wrenched, injuring her ankle and flipping her onto her back. He crawled on top her. She felt disconnected as she said, "We can't do this in here. The detonators are timed."

He glared down at her with a twisted grin. "That's what makes it fun, baby."

As if on cue, the sharp pops of detonators sounded. They were even weaker than she was lead to believe, barely even causing the palettes and boxes around them to shake. She squirmed underneath him and tried to shove him off. For some reason, her training was fading from her mind. Then she felt a sharp pinch in her thigh and a wave of heat flushed through her body. She looked down to see him pulling a syringe out of her thigh. "No! What did you do to me?!"

She heard an all-too-familiar giggle and approaching footsteps. "Buttering you up, trying to make you a little more cooperative." Josalin was a blonde bombshell with killer curves and legs that went to the North Pole. Josalin was a genius. Josalin was manipulative. Josalin was a sadistic bitch. And David was her bitch. "What you're feeling RaeRae, is a neurotoxin that causes extreme muscle weakness. Though after how easily I just saw Davey put you on your back, I wonder if it was necessary." Her syrupy voice seemed like nails on a chalkboard. Raelyn felt heavy, and her head was pounding. Josalin knelt next to her head and brushed Raelyn's hair away from her face with incredibly cool hands. She kissed her forehead.

"Why are you doing this?" Raelyn choked.

"The same reason you're here: sending a message," she answered.

"And having a little fun," David added. Raelyn was desperately trying to ignore that he was undoing her pants.

Josalin looked up at him. "Wait!" She shoved her hand into Raelyn's pants and groped over her thigh until she felt the strap that held on Raelyn's emergency button. She yanked until the strap slipped and pulled the apparatus out. She dangled it over Raelyn's face. "Should I set it off? See who comes running?" She threw it. "No, I don't want to interrupt our time together." She held Raelyn's face in her hands kissed her with an aggressive tongue. Raelyn tried to pull away, but the neurotoxin was doing its job. It got worse as David shoved one hand down the front of her pants and the other up her shirt.

As Raelyn struggled, she realized something. Her head started pounding after the injection. That usually happened when she had an immunity to the toxin. That meant, it would wear off in minutes rather than hours. She calmed as she felt the tingling in her limbs, letting her know she wouldn't have to suffer much longer. When Josalin pulled away from her mouth for breath, Raelyn asked, "What message are you sending? And to who?"

"Oh honey, we have plenty of time to worry about that." As if driving her point home, Raelyn heard David's zipper. To make it even better, the detonators were having a domino effect, making the detonations stronger and stronger. And there was still a bag of them nearby.

"Oh no," Raelyn begged. Then there was another sound, something rolling across the floor next to them. Josalin snatched up what turned out to be the syringe David had injected Raelyn with.

"Dave, is this what you gave her?!" she demanded. She sounded panicked.

"Yeah, mama, why?"

She threw it down and sprang to her feet. "This is the wrong toxin! It's not going to work on her."

"Well, it's working now," he argued.

"Not for long," Raelyn growled as she swung her leg into his groin. She turned into the kick, throwing him sideways.

She sprang to her feet and lunged at Joslin. Raelyn put her in a headlock and dragged her over to the bag with the rest of the detonators. She grabbed one and pressed it to Josalin's throat. "What message?" Raelyn hissed.

Raelyn wasn't paying attention to David's recovery. He ran towards them and snatched Josalin out of her grip. As they made their escape, Josalin called back, "Just tell daddy that Moreau made bail." She jangled something silver at Raelyn as they fled.

Raelyn reached for her chest and realized with horror that the silver object was her father's dog tags. Then Josalin's words sunk in. Amidst containing her panic, Raelyn kept her bearings enough to grab her emergency button and take her motorcycle home.

When she got home, she thrust open the door, threw open a kitchen drawer and snatched up the dad phone. She looked at the most recent message. He had gone on a job. She let out a string of obscenities, shoved the phone in her pocket, mounted her motorcycle and spend towards her dad's house.


	25. Chapter 25: Targeted

Warning: This chapter contains hospitals and needles.

She wrenched open Eliot's front door. "Dad?" Silence. She stepped in looked around. "Dad?" No answer. As the panic attack started, she hurried to the hall closet. There were several cases at the bottom. She popped one open, happy to see several syringes full of yellowish fluids.

She thought to herself, "I usually take a quarter dose, 250 ml, but with the panic attack, I should up the dose to 330." She rolled up her sleeve, popped in a needle and pressed the plunger. She sucked air into her lungs gratefully as her chest finally relaxed. She nearly screamed as the dad phone started ringing. She took a breath and answered casually. "Hey, Dad, that was a quick job."

"Raelyn, it's Parker."

Even with the sedative she'd just pumped through her veins, her breath caught in her chest briefly. She couldn't keep the concern out of her voice. "What are you doing with this phone?"

"A job didn't go as planned. There was an explosion."

"No."

"He's pretty beat up, but-"

"I'm on my way." She grabbed the case she used and the one behind it, tossed them in the saddle bag on her motorcycle and sped off towards the emergency center.

As she pulled into the tiny asphalt parking lot, she hit the brakes, turned the bike off, and dismounted all at the same time, causing it to skid and fall on its side, but she couldn't care less as she hustled inside the accursed building with its sickeningly bleach white walls.

As she made it into the hall where her father was being kept, a nurse put a hand on her to stop her. "Excuse me, but-"

Raelyn yanked her hood off and glared. "Excuse you what?" she growled.

The nurse removed her hand quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize."

"No one does," Raelyn grumbled as she marched on. The one time her real identity was an advantage, an advantage she didn't want. She finally made it to the room. She registered Parker was there as she stared at the pale and bruised figure hooked up to the respirator. He barely looked like himself. If her breath kept leaving her chest like this, she was going to need an inhaler. She gripped the foot of the bed and realized she was shaking. Her eyes burned, but she refused to cry, not where anyone could see.

"Raelyn," a soft voice said.

She turned to see Vance in the doorway. She felt six as he pulled her into a suffocating hug. Between her heavy breathing, he told her, "It's okay. It's going to be okay."

When he finally released her, she looked at him, and the only thing that she could say was "Why?" His response was to exhale and shake his head. "But he's going to be okay?" Vance nodded. "Thank you." He clapped her on the shoulder and left.

She leaned against the foot of the bed and clutched at her chest, feeling for her dog tags to realize they weren't there. Seeing her father in the bed had knocked the day's events and implications from her mind temporarily. She straightened and approached Parker. "How did this happen?" she asked in the voice she reserved for work situations.

Parker seemed to flinch. "It was a simple recon and there was a trip-wire bomb. It was crude, wouldn't show up on security files."

Raelyn ground her teeth in thought. Parker wasn't going to give her too much more information. "Hardison's not here. Did he get caught in the blast?"

Raelyn's tone of concern seemed to convince Parker that Raelyn wasn't out for information. Parker was too close to Eliot, too smart. She wouldn't let Raelyn take the case.

"No, he's fine. He went to find a vending machine. Stress-eater."

Raelyn gave a fake sigh of relief. "You know, that sounds like a good idea. I can't even remember the last time I ate. I had just gotten off a drop job when you called." Parker nodded as Raelyn left the room.

Raelyn cornered Hardison next to the vending machine at the end of the hallway. With no preface, she said, "I need all the files, all the information you have on the case you were sent on that lead to this."

He stared at her with raised eyebrows and wide eyes. "Um, I don't know if-"

"I'm not asking. You either give them to me willingly, or-"

"What's going on, mama? You think this was a setup?"

His concern stung. She liked Hardison. It wasn't that she didn't like Parker. It was that Parker saw her as "Eliot's daughter" in this situation and Hardison always held Raelyn on equal footing. She couldn't tell him everything, but she could tell him enough that he'd be less likely to argue.

"I do. I was just ambushed on a job right before I got Parker's call. I think my dad and I are being targeted, which means someone knows who we are. I need those files to figure out who."

"Well, we can help-"

"No, I have a feeling that anyone who tries to help is going to get hurt."

"But this is what we-"

"Are you going to give me the files or not?"

"Well, yeah."

"Good. I need some air. And a cigarette. Or twelve. Oh, and Hardison?"

"Yeah?"

"If you tell Parker or my dad what I'm doing, I will remove both your hands one bone at a time."

"O-okay."


	26. Chapter 26: Wake Up Call

Eliot groggily paced around the grounds of the emergency center. He had been out for two and a half weeks according to Parker. He wasn't going to be released yet, but he convinced the staff to let him go for a walk. He didn't hate hospitals nearly as much Raelyn, but he still wasn't a fan. He knew Raelyn was around somewhere. He had to wonder how she was taking this whole situation, mere weeks from the building collapse. Vance said he was keeping an eye on her and she was fine, but Eliot suspected she was keeping her shields up around him.

He turned a corner and spotted Raelyn on the curb of the small parking lot. It was worse than he thought. His daughter was sitting with none other than Quinn. He lumbered up to them as quickly as as his healing body could bring him.

She caught sight of him and jumped to her feet. "Dad, you're awake! Should you be out of bed?"

"What the hell is he doing here?" Eliot demanded.

Raelyn sucked on the cigarette she had been holding. Quinn pushed himself to his feet, and answered, "She called me here for moral support."

"How the hell do you even know each other?"

She shrugged. "Retrieval specialists know other retrieval specialists."

"You're sleeping together, aren't you?"

She scoffed unconvincingly, "Once."

Quinn's smug smirk didn't help, but Eliot decided to move on to the real issue. "What are you doing with him? He is not...kosher."

"Actually, ever since he helped you with that job with Victor Dubenich, his hat's getting a little whiter."

Eliot scowled with scepticism and addressed Quinn, "Seriously?"

Quinn shrugged with a sickening amount of charm.

"So you're okay?" Raelyn asked quietly.

"Of course, baby," Eliot returned in a whisper.

"Great." She lit up another cigarette since the previous one had burnt out.

Eliot glanced down to see a dozen or so cigarette butts. She'd probably been chain smoking since he was hurt. "I really don't like it when you smoke, Raelyn."

Her demeanor changed. Oddly enough, she was even more quick-tempered when she smoked. "Yeah, well, I don't like visiting you in a hospital, Dad."

Eliot cussed as she stomped away. It was amazing how she could be there to watch over him for the last two and a half weeks and still be too angry about being near a hospital to hold a conversation. Quinn exhaled and Eliot turned his attention to the day's other irritation.

He put himself inches from Quinn's chest. "You slept with my daughter?"

Quinn put his hands up and stepped back. "To be fair, I didn't know she was your daughter until you ended up in the hospital."

"How long have you known each other?"

"A couple years."

"Quinn, you can't tell anybody about her."

Quinn nodded. "I wouldn't do that. Like she said, my hat's on the whiter side of things. She did lie about the sex, though. We sleep together regularly."

Eliot cringed and swallowed the approaching vomit. "Seriously, man! You do know, I have to kick your ass, right? On principle."

Quinn bowed respectfully. "Of course. Though, I think the honorable thing to do would be to wait until you're fully healed."

Eliot couldn't help but laugh, however, he was cut short by his sore ribs. "Well, I guess if Raelyn was going to have a beau, you're-"

Quinn furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Hey, whoa, no, we're not a thing we just have sex. I mean, we're friends, and we hang out sometimes, but this isn't some workplace romance." Eliot scoffed in disgust. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you and Mikel going to the chapel?"

Eliot's eyes widened and he stepped back. "You know about that?"

Quinn snorted. "Dude, everybody knows. And everybody includes Raelyn. And no, I didn't tell her."

"Do you guys go on jobs together?"

"We have, but we avoid it."

"Why?"

"Our styles are too similar."

"How do you mean?"

"Too cut throat. You get a team together and somebody steps out of line, you remove them from the line, probably breaking a few bones in the process. You can't have two people like that on one team."

"Is she really on the right side?"

"Another way our styles are similar. We're white hat, but we're quiet about it. The good guys know we're good. The bad guys think we're bad."

"We do that."

"Not as quietly. Come on, you probably need to get back to bed." Eliot groaned in protest as Quinn propped him over his shoulders. "Your daughter's great in the sack, by the way." Eliot went to jam his elbow into Quinn's solar plexus and the sharp movement made him keel over in pain. "See?" They shuffled off to Eliot's room as he tried to ignore the fact that he was leaning on Quinn who was apparently having regular sex with his daughter who was so pissed at his condition she couldn't hold a conversation with him.


	27. Chapter 27: Horrors Dug Up

Warning: This chapter contains needles and discussion of substance abuse and suicide.

Raelyn tossed files down in frustration. She was in the storage unit she converted into an office years ago when she wasn't able to discuss details of work with her dad. While she could talk to him about it now, she had kept the office. She also used it for its intended purpose of storage; she kept and went over files she wanted to keep secret like the ones she had from the case that Eliot was working on when he got hurt, the one she was sent on when Josalin and David attacked, all the cases Leverage handled that she followed up on.

She had connected the dots. The same people had sent her to the ambush and Eliot to the bomb. She was certain Moreau was involved. She had to take him down permanently. She had to get rid of David and Josalin too. They knew who she was. It was surprising more people hadn't come after her and Eliot since she was attacked. It had been over a month. Word would've gotten out that Raelyn "Jamie Andrews" Spencer was Eliot Spencer's daughter...unless Josalin was keeping it quiet. Timing it. Bigger plans were in place.

Raelyn felt the uncomfortable tightening in her chest. She pulled a case from a smaller nearby table. There were two syringes left. One was full, the other only half. She had less than a week's worth of sedatives left. She rolled up her sleeve and pushed in a quarter dose, feeling her chest release after a few minutes. As she rolled down her sleeve and put the syringes and case away, she was desperately trying to figure out how to take Moreau, Josalin, and David out without Eliot's or Leverage's help...or knowledge.

She jumped when her phone went off. It was the dad phone. She never left without it anymore. There was a message. Eliot was going on a job. She wanted to argue, but they both went right back to work after recovery. Every time. Then she glanced at the case. While he was out, she had the opportunity to grab some more sedatives. Before she had even finished the thought, she was grabbing keys, locking up, and heading out.

Raelyn popped through Eliot's front door and went straight for the hall closet. Her hand grabbed the doorknob, and a handcuff snapped around her wrist. For a second, she thought Josalin and David or Moreau or one of their lackeys had found her, but she instantly knew it was worse. Her cuffed arm was yanked behind her and cuffed to the other. A knife sliced up her right sleeve and a digit pressed the needle mark from earlier. She hissed in pain. Eliot hauled her over his shoulder. She struggled, but the side effects of the sedatives made her weaker.

"Let go of me! Dad, let go! I can explain! You're hurting me!"

"Not as much as I'd like to!" he growled as he dropped her into a dining chair. He cuffed her ankle to the support bar of the chair leg, and padlocked the cuffs on her wrists to the back of the chair. She thrashed hard enough to shake the chair, but she wasn't going anywhere. She screamed in fury. "No!" Eliot yelled back at her. "You are not doing this to me! Not again!"

"It is not what you think."

He kicked the dining table. "Really? Really?! Eight cases of sedatives have disappeared over the last few months, Raelyn. You think I didn't pick up on that? You're abusing sedatives, again. I can't believe you're going to put me through this again." The despicable white room reflected in both their eyes. "We had a fight about you and school. You wanted to quit, I said no. There was a screaming match, and then we weren't talking. Eventually, I had to go on a job. Then I come home, I call, you don't answer. I had noticed my sedatives disappearing, but I had deluded myself into thinking you were using them to sleep. I go upstairs, and find you limp as a goddamn dishrag, white as a fucking sheet, needle still in your arm. And to make it even better, you leave a note on a wrinkled piece of paper; your wonderful last words to me: 'Sorry, Dad.' You know how long I couldn't stand to hear the word 'sorry' because of that shit. The one time I took you to a hospital without you being able to argue."

She wasn't prepared to deal with this. A quarter dose hadn't been enough. "D-Dad, please stop."

"'Please stop'? Did that thought cross your mind when-"

"No no no no-"

"YOU TRIED TO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF!" He slammed his fist onto the table, and it shook violently. Her screaming diluted to heavy breathing. He collapsed into the chair across from her. His rage melted into despair flavored with desperation. "You got out of the hospital. I was so scared you'd try again, I didn't bring it up. I kept it bottled up just like you. And now you're doing it again. You had to know I blamed myself."

"Dad, it was not your fault. I promise."

"Then why'd you do it?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Fine." He had gotten oddly calm as he stood up and left the room.

"Dad?" He returned with a large syringe filled with clear liquid. "Dad, what the hell is that?"

He smiled. The smile that told her she was about to lose. "This...flushes your system. Let's see, you've been taking them for, what, the last six months? I bet that panic attack you're fighting off is going to be pretty rough."

"You're a certifiable son-of-a-bitch, you know that?"

"It's almost like finding my daughter's unconscious body affected me in some way. Now tell me why you did it."

"I'm not going to do that."

He reached out and gripped her shoulder with his free hand and brought the needle to her neck. "Alright. This is going to hurt like hell."


	28. Chapter 28: Truth & Belief

Warning: This chapter contains needles and discussion of substance abuse, domestic violence, and suicide.

Raelyn bucked like a spurred horse, but Eliot held firm. "Okay, okay, okay! I'll tell you. Please don't do it!"

He pulled back with a satisfied smirk and returned to his seat. "Start with the first time."

"Um, okay. So I'd been...using for about a year. I was actually trying to immunize myself to paralytics and sedatives and stuff because I wanted to be ahead when I started retrieving. I decided I was going to drop school because I wasn't getting anything out of it. School wasn't going to help with retrieving. I knew I needed to cut emotional ties, so I decided to break up with David. I knew he had a mean streak in him, but-"

"Wait, are you telling me this bullshit was all over a guy?"

"Do not make this harder. Just let me talk." He conceded and nodded. She continued. Her voice had been shaky before, but now it started to break. "When I told him it was over...he hit me." Eliot saw the look of disgust on his face reflected in her eyes. They had gone from glassy to welling with tears. "I was so shocked, I didn't do anything. He asked me if I was going to wise up and change my mind. Of course, I said no." Tears dripped out of the corners of her eyes. "Then he beat the shit out of me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never expected anything like that to happen to me. I never wanted anyone to know because I didn't fight back. I didn't care that he hit me, beat me, waited until I couldn't get up to walk away. I couldn't face that I just took it. I was going to be a retrieval specialist. I had already dropped out of school. I didn't know anything else I wanted to do with my life. And I couldn't even defend myself against my ex-boyfriend. So I waited as long as I could for the bruises to heal, so you wouldn't know what happened. I mixed up the strongest sedatives in the biggest syringe I could find and waited until my heart rate to slow down and eventually stop. "

"But after everything, you just jumped into retrieving."

She shook the tears away. "I woke up, and I knew that if I survived a suicide attempt, I was supposed to go on with my life. So I did."

Eliot shook his head. "If I thought it would help, you'd be in weekly therapy right now. What made you start up again?"

"I figured it would help with the panic attacks."

"Is it any coincidence my sedatives started disappearing around the time your mother died?"

Her eyes were watery again. For the first time, she was looking him in the eye. "They started after the building collapse, you fucking jackass."

"You're taking more and more."

She was staring at her lap again. "No-"

"Don't you even try to lie to me."

"Some panic attacks are just stronger than others. I've never taken more than half a dose."

"How much did you take today?"

"Just a quarter dose. That's probably why I'm still having a hard time with this."

"Really? What's bringing on the harder attacks?"

"I don't-Probably you going into the hospital."

"Probably, huh?" He grabbed the needle and stood up.

"I'm telling the truth."

"I believe you. I also believe you're hiding something."

"I'm always hiding something."

"I can hear the cuffs jingling, Raelyn. Not the struggling jingle. The trying to get out of the cuffs jingle. Very distinctive jingle."

"You know every time you use the word 'distinctive', Hardison puts a dollar in a jar, and when it's full, he uses it to buy Parker something."

"Looking for these?" He tossed two bundles on the table: her knives and her lock-picking set; he had lifted them off her when he cuffed her.

"Dammit!"

It was at that point that he noticed the twinge in his shoulder. He glanced at it to see the darkening ring on his shirt. "Did...Did you bite me?"

She shrugged. "Yeah, you didn't notice?"

"Raelyn, what else?" Eliot warned, bringing the needle forward.

Raelyn used her free leg to try and kick herself out of her dad's reach. He took hold of the chair. The needle went in to her neck, but before he could hit the plunger, she blurted out, "We're being targeted!"

She winced as he pulled the needle out. "Keep talking," he told her.

"The day you were blown up, I was ambushed. I think we were both set up by the same person...people."

"Ambushed?"

Raelyn sucked her teeth and decided that giving Eliot a few details voluntarily might keep him off the Moreau trail. "Josalin and David."

"Ah, your old Bonnie and your old Clyde team up to foil you, huh?"

"Get that smirk off your face."

"Why'd you break up with Josalin?"

"Her hat was a little too black."

"So you say the same people set that bomb and sent Josalin and David after you? You think someone made a connection?" Eliot looked nervous.

"Yeah. Josalin definitely did. Sadistic bitch took my dog tags."

"Why didn't you tell me? You can't think you can handle this on your own. This involves me." He was getting angry again. Gears started turning. "You know who's after us?"

"I didn't say that."

"The entire planet knows that means 'yes'." Eliot heard the sound of cracking wood. She couldn't pick the cuffs so she was trying to just break away from the chair. He popped the needle into her neck.

She panicked, and screamed, "Josalin said Moreau made bail!" Eliot jerked the needle out and Raelyn cussed in response.

"What do you know about Moreau?!" Her look told him everything. "You know." She nodded. He was horrified.

"I don't see you like that." Eliot shook his head and wouldn't look at her. "I'm going to fix this."

"No."

"Dad, we-" The needle was coming towards her again. "What are you doing?!"

"Take a deep breath, honey."

"I won't take anymore, I promise. Stop!" The needle went in. "You were going to do it no matter what I told you," she realized.

"It's okay. I'm right here." He hit the plunger.


	29. Chapter 29: The Death of Bonnie & Clyde

Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence, death, anxiety, and allusions to domestic violence.

Her breath left her. Her chest tightened so quickly and hard that she was sure her ribs were buckling. She flushed and hyperventilated.

Eliot went to uncuff her. She would be too disconnected to attack him, and she may hurt herself if he left her restrained. He had barely released her hand when the shaking started. When he released her leg, she went tumbling off the chair. He tried to cushion her fall.

She pulled her knees to her chest and started rocking and screaming. She no longer registered that he was there. He could do nothing but monitor her to make sure she didn't hurt herself. Nine hours in, Eliot carried a catatonic Raelyn up to her room, checking on her every half hour.

He wanted to figure out how to deal with Moreau, but he couldn't do anything until Raelyn was functional. It was a day and a half before she pulled out of the trance. It was weird that it took him so long to hear the footsteps. By the time he registered the movement and sound, the front door closed, and shortly afterwards, the motorcycle started up. He knew she wouldn't answer his calls while she was on the bike, trouble or not. So he waited twenty minutes. He called and was surprised that she picked up. "Hey, Raelyn, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm busy," she said, and hung up.

Raelyn marched into the offices of Leverage International and right up to Hardison's desk. "Parker around?"

"No, she's with her dad," he answered, wrapped up in his monitors.

"Great, I need you to create an identity that will get me clearance into the San Lorenzo Penitentiary Infirmary." He stared at her in shock and disbelief. "I'm sure you're tired of the threats by now, so I'm going to change it up. Do this for me and I'll never ask you for something like this again." He continued to stare silently, slack-jawed with his eyebrows in his hairline. She sighed. "Please, Hardison. I will be at your beck and call for the next year."

"A-Alright. Hey, you look kinda pale, you holdin' up?"

"Yeah, I just haven't gotten a lot of sleep. I have some other business to handle, can you call me when you have everything ready for me?"

"Sure thing."

She climbed over the desk and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Hardison. I really appreciate it."

He returned the hug. "Yeah, girl. You sure you're okay?"

"Mm-hm." And with that, she was out the door.

Raelyn dropped by her storage locker to flip through some old files and scroll through the screen on a seldom-used laptop. She strapped some of her bigger, less common knives to her leg underneath her cargo pants before hopping on her motorcycle and high-tailing to an apartment in downtown Portland.

She broke down the door of a high end apartment and strolled in. "Two, three, almost four years and you never relocated. I thought you were smarter than that, Josalin. Or were you just waiting for me to come back?"

Josalin was standing in the kitchen; she dropped the dishes she was handling and turned to face Raelyn. Raelyn had that smirk she knew she inherited from her father; the legendary "you lose" smirk she rarely had the opportunity to use. She heard the footsteps coming from her left, and she timed it just right. She pulled a knife from her leg and ran it through David's shoulder just as he reached her. She stabbed the knife into the wall to pin him. "I'll deal with you later, sweetheart. I got special plans for you."

She turned back to Josalin just in time to catch her by the throat. She drove the blonde into the counter and bent her backwards over it. It was then she noticed her dog tags around Josalin's neck. She grasped them in a white-knuckle fist and held them taught. "Who all did you tell?" Josalin just laughed in response. Raelyn squeezed her throat. "You know, I have neurotoxins that actually work, and I can be very patient. You know I've always wanted to do that 'Torture of a Thousand Cuts' thing. How's that sound?" She eased the grip on Josalin's throat but kept her hold. "Now answer me."

Josalin bucked and Raelyn slammed her against the counter. "I haven't told anyone!"

She squeezed her throat briefly. "Why?"

"I was going to sell the information. I let it get around that Eliot Spencer has a daughter. I was going to auction off your information."

"How lucrative of you."

"Since you're here, maybe we can come to some sort of agreement."

"Maybe. Where's Moreau going to be this Friday night?"

"The Nines Hotel. There's going to be some sort of art showing."

"He's in Portland?! You fucking bitch."

"Like you're surprised."

"Sadly, I'm not." Raelyn yanked the dog tags from Josalin's neck. "You really shouldn't have taken my dog tags." She pulled a second knife from her leg and sliced through her ex-lover's throat. She kissed her forehead before the body crumpled to her feet.

She turned to face the bleeding man on the wall as she put her precious tags around her neck. She pulled the knife from his shoulder. He cried and clutched at the hole in pain. She flipped the knife around and slammed the hilt into his gut. As he fell, she grabbed his collar and threw him sideways. Once he landed, she straddled him and sunk to her knees. "And you. You, David, never should have laid a hand on me." She punched him in the face and then she punched again. She punched and she punched and she punched and she punched. She punched long after the blood flowed and even after the bones stopped crunching and just became a squishing mess. She felt compelled to check for his long-gone pulse before she pushed herself to her feet. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and put the knives back into the sheaths underneath her pant legs. She was about to walk out when the blood sprayed across her front caught her attention. She detoured to the bedroom and dug a long coat out of Josalin's closet. She buttoned it up and walked out of the apartment like nothing happened.


	30. Chapter 30: The Acquisition of Moreau

Warning: This chapter contains guns.

Raelyn went back to her apartment to clean herself up after dispatching Josalin and David. She wasn't surprised but rather irritated to find her father waiting for her there. "Raelyn Angela Spencer, what the hell are you doing? Where have you been?"

"Getting my dog tags back," she growled.

"Whose blood is all over you?"

"Bonnie &amp; Clyde, of course," she said snidely.

He snatched her by the arm. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

"Ending the nightmares. Mine and yours." She broke his grip.

"What are you talking about?"

"You said his name in your sleep. It stopped in 2010. It started again in 2011. I'm assuming that job with Dubenich made you realize jail doesn't stop monsters like Moreau."

He flinched at the name. "Raelyn, you cannot do this. You don't know what you're getting yourself into."

"Gonna give me the 'Two Men Die' speech? 'Cause that shipped sailed about six years ago. I know exactly what I'm getting into." She gave him a shove. "And that's what scares you." She left the room to shower and change.

When she came out clean, at least physically, Eliot was sitting on the couch fuming. She was yet to be surprised still. She headed for the door without qualm.

"Where are you going?" he asked quite calmly.

"Hell," she answered quietly.

"Raelyn, I will not let you do this!" he roared as he came to his feet and reached out for her.

His own personal hell came to life when there was a pistol aimed at his chest, a pistol in her hand. Her eyes were tired. "Don't make me do it."

The only question that made it past his lips was, "Why do you have that?"

"I'm sorry."

"Raelyn," his voice cracked, "put down the gun."

Her chest burned as she saw the desperation in his eyes, the fear. "I can't."

Her hand turned the knob, and he cried, "No!"

A bullet went into his foot, and the door slammed.

Raelyn tossed on a pair of glasses and a white lab coat as she marched into a dingy office building. She followed the familiar path to the lab and relished in the fact that no one questioned her presence. She checked labels and took two cases from the lab before smoothly strolling out like she was never there.

She headed back to her storage unit and set up a cot. She needed to stay especially low for a while and no one knew about the storage unit. She woke up to her phone ringing. She picked it up without looking. "You are now Rosario Aquna, nurse at the San Lorenzo Penitentiary Infirmary."

Raelyn gasped with what could have been described with glee. "Hardison, you are an absolute gem. If I make it through this, I am buying you a steak dinner as a start."

"Girl, as much as I appreciate the much-deserved praise, I have to ask you if you're sure this is the best idea."

"Hardison, I appreciate the concern, but God himself couldn't talk me out of this."

"Then God be with you, woman."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah. Flesh wound. Good aim."

After she had breezed into San Lorenzo Penitentiary Infirmary and acquired a sample of Damien Moreau's blood, she mixed it with one of the tubes from the cases she yoinked from the lab in a perfume bottle and spritzed it on. She donned a midnight blue evening gown, put her hair up in an elegant twist, and added a pair of strappy sandals and some subtle silver jewelry. She checked herself in the mirror before heading out for the ballroom at The Nines Hotel.

Raelyn mingled in the hotel ballroom at the art show. She kept Moreau in her peripheral. The substance she mixed with Moreau's blood was a mixture of pheromones designed to attract, and the blood added was to ensure Moreau was strongly attracted. It wasn't long before she felt him watching her. She let him for a while before glancing over and letting him make eye contact. They made their way towards each other. He swiped two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed one to Raelyn as she reached him.

"Evenin', handsome," she purred, letting her accent through. People had a slight tendency to trust the Southern drawl.

"Forgive me, but I must ask what a lady as attractive as you is doing in a place like this unescorted."

"I guess I'm lookin' for an escort."

"I would be happy to fill the position for the evening."

"Would you? Got a name, vaquero?"

"Damien." He took her hand and kissed it, and she knew she had him.

"Raelyn." His relaxed expression told him he didn't recognize the name. Yes, he was going to remember her name, her real name. He wouldn't have time to forget it. "So what about when the evenin's over?" She slipped her fingers inside her dress and flashed a hotel key. He gave her a lecherous grin.

They went through the obligatory idle chatter through the couple hours of the art showing. She engaged him in story-telling until there were only a few attendants left besides them before they finally drifted to her hotel room.


	31. Chapter 31: The Death of Damien Moreau

A/N: This was my favorite chapter to write.

Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence, sexual innuendo, death of a major character, and and angst.

Raelyn kissed Moreau aggressively and guided him backwards onto the bed. She kept her lips on his as she punctured his thigh with a needle. He didn't even react to it...until, of course, it knocked him out.

The sedative wasn't too powerful. He'd only be out for a few minutes. She changed from her dress to her usual cargo pants and muscle shirt. She took her hair down and put it back in her comfortable braid. She stripped Moreau down to his pants and undershirt and slipped another injection into his back. She sat him up against the headboard as he began to wake up.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Moreau...Well, not for long." He opened his eyes and looked at her with a mixture of confusion, fury, and maybe even some panic. She knelt on the bed next to him. "I should let you know now I've injected you with a paralytic. You won't be able to move much, probably just your face and neck, but thankfully, you'll be able to feel everything I'm going to do to you. Too bad you won't be able to scream." She pulled the ever-present silver chain from her neck and dangled it in front of his face. "Do you know what these are?" His head tilted back and forth. "These...are Eliot Spencer's dog tags." His brow furrowed, and she smiled. "More importantly, these are my father's dog tags." His eyes widened. "Damien, you're going to die in the next seventy two hours, twelve if I get impatient." He started looking angry. "I've been planning this for years. I'm a little unpredictable."

She bounced off the bed. "I'm excited. There's this thing in Chinese culture called Death By A Thousand Cuts. I've always wanted to try it, but you know, I've always had to work fast. Now I have a little time. We'll stick to your limbs, so it'll last a while. I hope you have a high tolerance for pain; I'd really hate it if you passed out. Though, I think I brought some stimulants that might help. Oh, now why did I do that." She began to remove his belt and pants, leaving him in his boxers and the undershirt. "It's a shame, Damien. You really are a handsome man. I'm sure you have prowess. We could have had a good time. In a world where you didn't take part in destroying the man my father could have been."

She crawled back onto the bed, pulled one of the many knives from her belt and started making tiny nicks in his left arm. He flinched but stayed quiet. "He is a great man now, though. You and I make a great team, you know. Between making up for the things you had him do and wanting to be a better man with me closer at hand, we're the biggest reasons he joined Leverage. Go us."

She switched to his right arm and then licked at the seeping blood. He made a noise of protest. Or disgust. Or both. "What? You surprised the hitter's daughter's got a screw loose?" She knelt down and started working on his legs. She was slicing just enough to pierce the skin, draw blood. "I know something's wrong with me. I'm not stupid. My dad started taking lives when he joined the military and got caught up with some darker figures with some higher paychecks. He took some wrong paths. Me, I had the blood lust from a very young age. At 17, my dad had me. At 17, I was planning to make a career out of this." She sat back on her heels. "Why do you think that is? Do you think the blood lust is in the blood or do you think something's wrong with me? You're messed up in the head, what do you think? Is it hereditary or am I like you?"

She moved him around until he was laying face down on the bed. She pushed the undershirt up to his shoulders. "What a canvas. No, I'm not like you. I feel when I kill. I just ignore it. My dad felt. He ignored it for a while. I wonder how long it'll take before I can't ignore it anymore. Doesn't matter. You'll be dead by then."

She poked and sliced and cut for hours. He stayed quiet, but she didn't take him for a screamer. She had wanted to do this in a warehouse. She felt bad about the blood getting on the bed that the maids would have to clean, but she couldn't safely get him to a warehouse.

"Wow, three hours in, and I'm tired of you. That was quick. I did have fun though. I got to act out one of my biggest fantasies of all time. If could go home to a three-way between Scarlett Johansson and Chris Hemsworth, my life would be complete." At this point, Moreau was on his back again. The skin on his limbs looked like plaid. She had left his chest uncarved on purpose. She crawled on top of him and straddled his pelvis. "I'm going to do a few finishing touches, and while I do that, you should make right with whatever diety you may worship." She began to carve deliberately into his chest and abdomen. He panted and struggled. The paralytic was beginning to wear off. She thought about injecting him again, but there wasn't much left to do. "Damn, I wanted this to look better. Why'd you have to squirm so much? Oh well. Time to wrap this up."

She leaned forward and wrapped both hands around his neck and very slowly started to squeeze. He struggled and grabbed at her hands, but she was too far in. She squeezed harder and harder. When he finally went limp, she sighed. "Goodbye, Damien."


	32. Chapter 32: Waking Up

Raelyn showered in the hotel room where she killed Damien Moreau. She dressed in jeans, sneakers, and an olive green sweater left her hair unbraided after the shower. She packed away her evening gown and bloody clothes in a duffel bag and made sure the "Do Not Disturb" placard was still on the door. She had the room for three days; they wouldn't find him until she was supposed to check out. She took one last look at the carvings on his chest and smiled as she left.

On a bloody bed in a room at The Nines Hotel was the dead body of Damien Moreau with "Raelyn Angela Spencer" carved into his chest.

She walked to the airport and hopped on a private plane. A favor she got from Quinn rather than Hardison. Quinn was sweet enough to not ask questions. When she landed, she headed straight towards the ranch with Charlie and went to bed. She woke up to her phone ringing. She knew who it was.

"Raelyn, I haven't heard from you in two days. Not even your fucking 'Still alive' texts. What the hell is going on? I went to your apartment and you weren't there. Where the hell are you?"

"With Charlie," she answered quietly.

"Charlie? You're in Texas?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay."

When Eliot arrived at the Ranch in Lubbock, Texas, he wasn't sure what to expect. Raelyn sitting with her knees to her chest in baggy sweat pants, an oversized t-shirt, canvas tennis shoes, and an oversized leather jacket that he wondered was his. Her hair was down and she was nested in a blanket. She was leaning up against Charlie's stall looking more tired than he'd ever seen her. "Rae?"

"Hey. You got here quick."

"Y-you okay, honey?"

She nodded. "Just tired."

"Where...Where have you been the last two days?"

She stared into her lap. "I told you...ending the nightmares."

Eliot couldn't even begin to sort through his emotions. "You...went through with it? You succeeded?"

"Yup." And then she started crying. "I thought it would feel better." He knelt down in front of her, favoring his right leg, trying to hide the limp from the gunshot. "But I'm so tired, no matter how much I sleep. And I still constantly feel like I can't breathe. It's supposed to be over, and I still can't breathe."

"Raelyn. Raelyn. Raelyn, listen to me. Look at me. Honey." He took her chin in his hand. "Breathe in through your nose. Slow and easy. Now breathe out through your mouth. Keep it slow and easy. Okay, now again. Good job. Again. Breathe."

"N-Now would be...a great time for sedatives."

"No. No." He pushed hair out of her face and felt how clammy her forehead was. "Come on, baby. Let's get you some water."

He started to bring her to her feet but she pulled away. "No. I don't want to leave Charlie."

He glanced up at the horse who was looking at him with concern. "Okay, don't go anywhere." She had done this after the suicide attempt too. They'd gone to Texas to handle the rest of the recovery. She clung to Charlie like a security blanket.

Eliot came back with the water; Raelyn hadn't moved. He handed her the glass. "Here. Drink slow. Honey, when's the last time you had something to eat?"

"I don't know," she said between sips.

"Well, why don't we fix that? What do you want?"

She shook her head. "No. I don't want to eat."

"Raelyn-"

"It's not going to stay down."

"Ah, one of those. Alright. Well, something needs to get in your system. I'll go get...I'll have somebody get a case of Gatorade."

Eliot and Raelyn usually dropped by the ranch whenever they could, but of course they had a full-time staff that tended to the land and took care of Charlie. They usually visited separately and hung out with the workers, but it was usually unspoken that if Raelyn and Eliot were there together and it wasn't a holiday, the staff kept their distance as it was often intense personal matters that brought them as a pair.

Raelyn took a few gulps of Gatorade and then turned to the side and heaved. Eliot grunted in displeasure but was thankful that she'd turned far enough to not get any on either of them.  
"Why this one?"she choked. He was about to ask for context when she continued. "Over seventy bodies to my name, and I've never had a kill affect me like this. Not even the first one."

"No. Raelyn, don't do this to yourself. It's not helping anything." He went to pull her hair away from any vomit and buried the filth in straw to be dealt with at a better time. "What is with your hair, girlie? You haven't worn it down since you were little." She shrugged.

He paused in thought. "I'll be back." He jogged off and returned with several black leather cords, different colored beads, and a brush. He sat behind her and started brushing her hair. She sighed and he could hear the smile on her mouth. He strung the beads onto the leather cords and braided them into her hair. "Feel better?"

She leaned into his lap. It was always a little awkward since she was much taller than him. "Starting to. What'd you use?"

"Turquoise, coral, onyx and then there's a tiger's eye and a pearl at the bottom."

"Turquoise for good fortune, strength, and overcoming illness."

"Coral for protection."

"Onyx for calming."

"Tiger's eye for courage and protection."

"Pearl for purity and integrity."

"Yep."

"Two types of protection stones, huh? And what good do you think the pearl is going to do at this point?"

"It looks pretty."

It made Raelyn laugh, and Eliot hadn't heard her laugh in months. She got to her feet. "Charlie needs a few." He stood up with her, and they put three beaded leather braids. Things felt deceivingly calm. "You need a couple, too," she suggested. He had her put one on each side; she used mostly turquoise and tiger's eyes.


	33. Chapter 33: Contingency

Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence and extra profanity.

When she finished his hair, she rested her head on his shoulder. "I am so tired. I can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep."

He patted her back. "Tonight'll be different."

She pulled away from him and sat against the stall wall. "No. Because it's not over."

"What?"

"It's not over."

"Raelyn, honey, you're just tired. Come on, let's get you to an actual bed."

She sighed and shook her head. "When they find the body in the hotel room, we're blown."

"What are you talking about?"

She glanced at him briefly before admitting, "On Monday morning, my three night reservation for The Nines Hotel will be up, and they will find Damien Moreau's body...and artistically carved into his body will be my full name."

"Your name?"

"Yup."

"Your full name?"

"Raelyn Angela fuckin' Spencer. Well, only my name would fit on his chest, not the expletive." She smiled. It was that twisted smile she had often times when she picked up a particularly hot woman. She pulled herself to her feet. "Food. I could do food." She began to exit the stable.

Eliot snatched her by the arm. "Raelyn!" She looked back at him calmly. He was unnerved by the look in her eye. He hadn't seen that calm resolve since before the building collapse.

He stuttered and she replied, "I said it wasn't over." She slipped from his grip and continued outside. "I'm thinking "

He followed her as things added up. "Wait a minute. You have a three night reservation that ends Monday. You killed Moreau and then came here. You were here by Saturday morning. How did you get here so fast?"

"I flew. Had a layover in Colorado. Did another wardrobe change. Made it here. Called a cab."

"You flew? Raelyn, you hate planes."

"Jamie Andrews hates planes. Raelyn does not." Her words didn't make sense. "Jamie wears her hair in a braid; Raelyn does not. Raelyn wear casual clothes with an a feminine flair; Jamie does not. Jamie is a skilled retrieval specialist; Raelyn is Eliot Spencer's daughter that no one's ever seen."

There was a long silence as Eliot let the ramifications of her words soak in. "You made two different identities. You've been preparing for this."

She nodded. "I always knew it was a possibility, and I had several contingencies."

"You're scaring me, Raelyn."

"I killed two people I used to sleep with, your worst enemy: a notorious man famous for his lack of heart, shot you in the foot, and my excellent planning has you concerned? How's your foot, by the way?"

"My foot's fine, Raelyn, and yes, the fact that you are so prepared to turn your life upside down concerns me."

"Dad, I will puke on you if you don't reel it in."

"That's a new threat."

"Shit, I left my work phone in Portland."

"Raelyn, you don't need to be working any time soon."

"Can't stay here forever. People will catch on when both Raelyn and Jamie both go off the grid."

Eliot and Raelyn stayed at the ranch for another week. Raelyn mentioned wanting to come back more often for Charlie, once a month didn't seem fair to her. It was weird to have Raelyn calling a car service to take her to the airport instead of hopping on her bike, but she'd intentionally hid it in Portland. She already had anxiety just getting in the car. She hated planes and airports, but she had to keep her distance from Eliot. He almost wanted to give her a sedative for the flight, but he wanted her off them.

They'd decided he'd stay in Texas another couple of days to keep distance between them. Raelyn had another layover and wardrobe change in Colorado. She openly contemplated staying there for a few days. When he hadn't heard from her almost eight hours after she left, he wondered if she had decided to vacation in Colorado. His phone, the one only for Raelyn, rang. He answered, half-expecting what he heard on the other line.

"Spencer, you owe me a favor."

Eliot gritted his teeth, burying the blinding fear behind irritation. "Do I?"

"Yes," the gruff voice answered. There was a Russian accent. "I am in need of some papers. I will send you all the information I have. You must get it to me in 24 hours. In return, your daughter will go unharmed."

He almost choked on the words he never wanted to say about her. "I'm gonna need proof of-"

"Doda! Don't do it! Stay away from here! They're just-" There were several thuds and grunts. "Fuck you, you mother-fucking piece of shit! You die first, you son-of-a-bitch!"

Okay, he no longer needed proof of life. She didn't want him to come. She used Cherokee. But he couldn't leave her there. He just couldn't.

"Relatively unharmed," the Russian qualified. "Call when you have my papers, and I'll tell you where we are."

"You're gonna die," Eliot warned quietly before he hung up.

"So she actually killed him," Hardison said. He had already, surprisingly quickly, even under the time constraints, located the papers and whipped up an alias so Eliot could snag them without getting his hands dirty.

"Yup."

"And carved her name into his body?"

"I'm not actually sure if he was dead when she did that. She is a huge fan of the Death of a Thousand Cuts."

"So did she just let him bleed out?"

"I don't know, Hardison."

"I'm really curious," Parker chimed in. "This wasn't just a job for her. It was personal. The kill was probably fantastic, artistic."

"Seriously?" Eliot groaned.

"You know, it'd be pretty easy for me to access the coroner's report, even for a guy like Moreau."

Eliot protested, "Hardison, I really don't-"

"Got it. With pictures too. Damn."

Parker read over the screen. "Cause of death: Asphyxiation, Strangulation. Yep, there's handprints on his neck. And she did a beautiful job with her little signature."

Eliot glanced up once and knew that the bloody, bruised body of Damien Moreau signed with his daughter's name would be burned into his mind until death. He was less relieved than he hoped to be. Being told was different than seeing. He really did have to face the fact that his child killed one of his own personal monsters, with her bare hands apparently. Was he kind of proud? Or was he more terrified of what his life did to her that drove her to such a personal murder? Or was it a mix?


	34. Chapter 34: Worst Nightmare

Warning: This chapter contains graphic violence and death of a major character.

I would like to apologize, and I hope my readers will stick with the story after this.

Eliot stomped through the eerily quiet warehouse. Parker and Hardison were on standby in Lucille IX a block down the road. As he got to the second floor, he heard faint screaming, and he picked up to a run, following the ruckus. When he found the source of the noise, he wasn't sure if he was surprised or not at what he found.

There was Raelyn pummeling the snot out of a rather large Russian. Judging by the wood pieces and rope still tangled around her limbs, she had destroyed the chair she had been tied to, and judging by the half-dozen unconscious Russians in the room, she's used said chair as a weapon until it was too splintered to use, then switched to her fists.

"Raelyn?" Eliot intruded carefully.

She dropped the long blacked out brute and looked at him with irritation. She marched towards him with a deliberate finger. "I am not a hostage. I am not a damsel in distress. I am not bait, a package, a broad, or a bargaining chip. I am not helpless. I am a retrieval specialist. And I am going to retrieve the ass of the next neanderthal that forgets that."

He knew what she was saying and he understood it, but he was finding it extremely difficult not to laugh. "Y-You done?" he choked.

"What are you even doing here? I told you to stay away! I used Cherokee! Off the ranch!"

"Come on, Rae, I couldn't just leave you-"

There was a metallic click followed by, "The paperwork, Spencer. Hand it to me now, and I'll only fire once. You give me trouble like your girl did, and I kill her first."

Suddenly, Raelyn had the envelope in her hand and had her zippo lit and raised with an implied threat. "Who're ya gonna shoot now, bitch?"

And the muzzle of the gun pressed against Eliot's temple. He saw absolute panic wash across her face. "Ahida," he said slowly. It wasn't doing much to quell her, though. Her eyes were glassy, and her hands started to shake. She'd carve out her own kidney and hand it over if that's what it took to get the gun pointed away from him. "Ahida," he repeated.

He threw his elbow back and felt his assailant's nose crunch then reached back and snatched the gun out of his hand and ejected the magazine. He reached for her. She dropped the envelope, closed the lighter, grabbed his hand and they took off running. He put her in the van with Hardison and Parker and got in behind her. She sat against the wall of the van next to the back door. She pulled her knees up to her chest and leaned her head back.

He saw the look in her eyes. It was a look he recognized. It was the demons taking over. The look killed him to see on her, and he had no idea what to do about it. "Rae? It's okay, honey, we're safe."

She sighed; she was a million miles away. "It's still not over."

Raelyn had became even more distant than before. She'd answer his calls and texts, but she never had much to say. He wasn't even sure she was going out on the weekends. She wouldn't even take the jobs Vance would call for. Eliot ended up spending a lot of time with Vance. He had this weird understanding of Raelyn. For some reason he saw her as another military kid. "She just needs some time off. That's probably what she's doing. It's been a stressful year...even for her. Just let her take her little vacation." Those words would haunt them both.

It was a Saturday. It'd been weeks since the Russians. Eliot was contemplating inviting Raelyn, Nate, Sophie, and the rest of the team over for a barbecue that evening. He decided to go grocery shopping before he called everybody. As he unpacked the groceries, his phone rang. He was pleasantly surprised to see Raelyn's number on the screen.

"Daddy?" The quiet, fearful voice didn't register.

"Hey baby, what are you up to?"

"Dad, I um, I screwed up. I took a job. I thought getting back to work would help with...and um...Dad, I'm not going to make it out."

Instant denial swallowed his brain. "Raelyn, what are you talking about? Just-just press the emergency button, send me your coordinates, I'll be right there."

"Dad, it's a Steranko building. I'm going to press the button, and you're not going to get here in time. The building's going to blow in a few minutes. If I even try to break a window to escape, it'll blow instantly. Thankfully, the gas that ignites is going to suffocate me before it blows. I don't know why that's a good thing."

"Raelyn, listen to me. Press the emergency button," his voice cracked.

"I don't have a lot of time. There's a storage unit here in Portland under mom's name. Hardison should be able to find it with a quick search. The key to it is on top of my fridge. Inside, there's a safe. You'll know the combination. Inside is my Death Folder. You-"

"Raelyn! Press-"

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. You have to know this isn't your fault. I love you. You are the best dad I could have asked for, and I love you." Her breathing was getting heavy.

"Raelyn, no! It's not over. Just tell me where you are. Don't hang up!" His phone beeped. She'd sent the coordinates.

"I'm sorry. Goodbye, Dad." The line went dead.

"NO!"


	35. Chapter 35: Death Folder

Warning: This chapter deals with the death of a major character.

I would like to apologize again and implore you to read next week's chapter.

It was an eight minute drive, and it felt like he was driving across Texas twice. Eliot felt his legs go numb when he pulled up to the leveled building. He got out of the truck and didn't even close the door as he trudged through the rubble.

He dug through the debri until nightfall. He wasn't sure what all he was looking for. He was both grateful and heart-broken to find no discernable human remains. But he found coral and turquoise beads from her hair; onyx beads, studs, and a few leather bits from her bracelets; what he felt like might have been the heel of her boot; and her dog tags. Well, they were his, but they were hers. As much as they meant to him, they meant worlds more to her. They were charred, a little bent, but still pretty in tact. He looped them around his wrist a few times.

He felt a disconnect as he got back into his truck and drove to Raelyn's. He blatantly ignored the eerie silence and abnormally chilly air as he retrieved the key from the top of the refrigerator. It was then that it occurred to him he'd actually have to ask Hardison to look up the unit. And he didn't want to ask. Because then Hardison would ask why. And Eliot didn't want to say it. Eliot didn't want to say anything, to talk to a single soul.

He took a look at the key and saw the unit number etched into it. The thought occurred to him that the unit was probably close by. He could just drive to the nearest storage place and try the key in unit number 318, and as it turns out that was effective.

He opened the unit door to reveal a makeshift office. File cabinets lined the walls. A table was in the center, covered in files and an old laptop. There were a few smaller tables scattered around with weapons on them. The back wall had a weapons chest, a cot, and the safe.

He knelt in front of the safe. She said he'd know the combination. He sat in thought for a few minutes and her tattoo flashed across his mind. R. L. S. 18-12-19. He spun the combination lock and it clicked open. The first thing he saw was a thick white envelope labeled "Dad". He opened it to find a letter.

Dad,  
If you're reading this, I died first. I'm sorry. You're probably bouncing between blaming yourself and being angry with me. Don't blame yourself. I can promise you however it happened, it wasn't your fault. I hope you're reading this soon after and you didn't wait months after you stopped being mad at me. If it hasn't been too long and there's a body, cremate me and spread me on the ranch. If there isn't a body, there's a chest of things in my bedroom. If anyone's feeling sentimental, they can keep something. Send the rest of it down the White River.

I really don't want anyone else riding Charlie, but if she takes another rider, she's theirs. I trust her judgement.

My account information is in another envelope. There's a list of charities to give the money to, mostly animal shelters and some stuff for kids.

I really am sorry. No matter what happened, I don't regret anything. I know this isn't the life you wanted for me, but it's a life I've loved. I know we've had our disagreements, but you really are the best dad I could have asked for. I love you so much. Please forgive me.

Gvgeyuhi,

Raelyn

Eliot's eyes burned as he read the letter. But he wasn't going to cry. Raelyn hated the entire concept of crying. His head hurt. He felt like he was being set on fire, drowning and being pulled apart all at the same time. He sighed in resignation and climbed onto the cot.

Eliot woke up. As the recent events flooded his mind, he knew he had to start dealing with Raelyn's final wishes. Parker and Hardison did him the great favor of making the phone calls and giving him space. There was an honor among even the brutalist of hitters: No one would bother Eliot professionally within seven days of Raelyn's death or memorial.

Eliot brought the chest to the river. He wore black jeans and a black button down. Raelyn would've scoffed at anything dressier. Mourners started arriving; Parker, Hardison, Nate, Sophie, Quinn, Vance. Everyone was wearing the casual jeans and black t-shirts because they knew. Except Sophie, of course. Her pants were casual, but her blouse was dressy. He cringed that so many people knew Jamie instead of Raelyn. So few people knew his wonderful little girl was gone. He didn't look anyone in the eye, and they all did him the favor of staying quiet. Everyone respectfully took a trinket from the chest; it was about a dozen pieces of leather jewelry and stone talismans. He glanced at the dog tags on his wrist. He knew those were the trinket he would keep.

He tossed the rest in the river, a few at a time. After he dropped the last of them in, he caught his reflection in the water, and he saw her. He was going to see her in his reflection forever. He thought about the ritual she'd asked him to do, and he didn't realize until that moment that she did it for him. It was about a physical way to help him say goodbye.

Quinn and Vance hugged him with quiet assurances to go for drinks later. They needed to grieve too. Quinn lost his best friend, his partner in the white hat. Vance had lost his niece. They both looked pretty rough, though, he knew he looked rough.

He stared down the river. "Didayolihv dvgalenisgv, Raelyn. Gvgeyuhi." His vision blurred as the tears started. He blinked them away, ignoring the tightening in his chest. He turned to leave and found himself face-to-face with Nate, the rest of the team flanking him.

Nate's knowing look was like a bullet to the chest. He sucked in a shaky breath, and the tears came with the sobs and the weakness in the knees. Nate pulled Eliot to his chest. "It wasn't supposed to be her. It wasn't supposed to be her!" Eliot told him through the sobs. He felt the arms of Parker, Hardison, and Sophie join Nate's. He heard Parker's sniffles and Hardison's shaky breathing and Sophie's quiet weeping. With his family, with the one person who could understand his pain, he still wanted to carve out his own heart and send it down the river with everything else.


	36. Chapter 36: Forgiveness

Drinks with Quinn and Vance ended up happening simultaneously. It was weird on a level but neither Quinn nor Vance seemed to mind. Misery loved company. Eliot was there, but he wasn't fully present. He was nursing the same warm beer the entire time. He kept seeing Raelyn. She was one of the two girls making out in the dark corner. The dark-haired girl in the group of friends by the stereo. The girl sitting alone at the bar on her fourth beer. One of the girls from the tattoo parlor down the street with her legs propped up on the table.

He remembered laughing at something Quinn said. He couldn't remember what it was or why it was funny. They agreed to do this again more regularly. Eliot liked the thought, but...Parker and Hardison had put Leverage on hiatus, and he wasn't sure he needed to rejoin them once it was over. Quinn was white hat now, maybe he could replace Eliot.

Raelyn was half the reason Eliot joined Leverage. He wanted to do right by her. The job had killed her anyway, and he wanted to be done with it. Maybe he'd do what Raelyn always talked about doing in retirement and live out the last of his days on the ranch. He remembered when the subject came up before that he'd talked about just running the pub with Hardison, but he couldn't deal with the pub and be the only one not in the game. Parker and Hardison were nowhere near retirement.

Weeks went by. Parker and Hardison let him be on the work front. Surprisingly, so did everyone else. Hardison did call every couple of days to invite him out. He went occasionally but always cut out early. The same happened with Quinn and Vance. Eliot noticed Quinn was looking worse and worse as time went by but never said anything. Parker drug him out for ice cream but never made him talk. He saw Nate more often. They never really talked, but it was nice to be with someone who knew the pain.

He still saw her everywhere, so one day, when he came home from an afternoon of comfortable silence with Nate, he wasn't surprised to see her curled up on the couch watching the TV...until he heard the TV and realized it was actually on.

"You little shit!"

She got up slowly and he met her in the living room. She looked into his eyes, searching. He couldn't count the emotions he was feeling, but the one that stood above them all was relief. He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed, and she squeezed him back.

He didn't feel her grip weaken, but her heard her strained voice, "Dad, my ribs are cracking."

He loosened his grip but kept his arms around her. After several breaths, he finally found the control to ask, "Why did you do this?"

She walked him over to the fridge, reached behind it, and pulled out two files: one marked Raelyn Spencer and the other marked Jamie Andrews. He flipped through the files to see two lives documented, and one death certificate. "Gears still turnin'?" she prodded.

"You pulled a Sophie."

She snorted, "If you wanna call it that."

"You need a hacker for some of this stuff. Did you pull Hardison in on this crap?"

"This crap is a masterpiece, and no, not this time. I used this kid, Colin Mason."

"Chaos? Raelyn, that sack of hammers will turn on you faster than an avocado."

"I faked my death, I can handle that toddler. I tripled his fee, and I have his mother's home address."

"Who are you?"

"It's all in the files."

"That phone call, Raelyn. Why did you put me through that phone call?" He stared at the files because it hurt to look at her.

"I needed you to believe it, so that everyone else would." He sighed. He accepted the answer, but he still felt...betrayed. She put her hand over his. "I know what I did hurt like a bitch. Especially since I know it's your biggest deal breaker to run a job on your own team, but Dad, no one's come after you since I died."

"Raelyn, I-"

"Dad, I have asked you to accept a lot of things that I've done, things about me, but I need you to forgive me for this." She pulled close to him. He could feel that she wanted to cry. And he wanted to cry. But they wouldn't cry. Not in front of each other. Not again. He said nothing and squeezed her.

After several minutes of silence, he sighed again. "I have some awkward phone calls to make."

"I made some of them for you. Parker, Hardison, and Vance. Vance says I owe him dinner. I was gonna tell Quinn after I knew you were okay."

"You sure you and Quinn aren't a thing?"

"He's my Hardison, Dad."

"So you left the worst one for me."

"I couldn't call Nate while he was out with you."

"You're coming with me."

"What?"

"You have to come with me to tell Nate."

"Um, okay." Raelyn didn't particularly want to, but she felt like she owed them. "Lemme turn off the TV."

"What were you watching, anyway?" He knew it was an Eastwood movie.

She smirked. "Million Dollar Baby."

He shook his head. "That's not funny."

"It's hilarious." She tugged at his wrist. "Hey, Dad?"

"What?"

She nodded at the dog tags. "Any chance I could have those...back?" He sighed and placed them around her neck.

She tried to block out the next few hours. Nate's face when she and Eliot showed up at his door was nauseating. The raised eyebrows followed by the thinly veiled disappointment. It was belayed by Sophie's relief and...pride. After a couple hours of soaking in guilt, Eliot and Raelyn finally went home. Eliot outright asked Raelyn to stay at the house, and she agreed, no question.

Raelyn went to bed with one thought clear on her mind: Eliot was never going to forgive her.


	37. Chapter 37: Reflection In Blood

Warning: This chapter contains guns, blood, and graphic violence.

Raelyn woke up to a giant stack of cinnamon pancakes she didn't feel she deserved. Eliot seemed so happy, like a puppy that had discovered water. They had breakfast, and they watched Eastwood movies (sans Million Dollar Baby), and Raelyn spent another night, but the following morning, she had to head home. She had yet to tell Quinn, and she didn't want him finding out from anyone but her. Eliot was reluctant to let her leave his sight, but he knew better than to prod.

Raelyn knew she couldn't just show up on Quinn's doorstep; he'd probably open fire out of shock. So, she texted him, "Hey" and waited. Within half an hour, her front door flew open, and a pistol was aimed at her head.

She put her hands up. "So you're upset. I get that. You know, if I ever doubted you and my dad worked together, that look right there sealed it, I mean, do you guys practice that, or is it-"

"What the hell, Raelyn?" She'd never seen him angry, not this angry, not with her. She stuttered for a few minutes, not finding the words for an explanation. "Answer me."

"I was protecting my dad!"

The magazine ejected from the gun, and he tucked the pistol into the back of his pants. He embraced her. "You can't do that to me."

She hugged him back. "You need more friends, Quinn." He laughed. "You smell good. You look like hell though."

"Thanks."

"What the hell!"

"You've got to be kidding me! Dad!" Eliot had, for the second time and two times too many, walked in on Raelyn mid-hump with Quinn. She rolled off him, wrapped herself in one of the sheets that created their palate on the kitchen floor, and got to her feet. "What in the name of Charlie do you want? I told you I was busy this weekend!"

"Last time you told me you were busy, you ended up killing four people, including yourself." Eliot gestured to the sheet. "Why are you covering up? Everyone in this room knows what you look like naked."

Quinn snorted. "He has a point." He ran his hand up her leg. "Wait, does he know about the new tattoo?"

She kicked at his shoulder. "You hush, or you're continuing with a dislocated shoulder."

"There's a new tattoo?" Eliot questioned.

"Yeah, I got it in Colorado. It's not a big deal, now-"

"When were you in Colorado?"

"When I was dead. Now, seriously, I'm trying to make up for the fact that I didn't get any between killing Moreau rising from the dead."

"You didn't get any in Colorado?"

"No, I was dead."

"Did you set up a palate to have sex on your kitchen floor?"

Quinn chimed in, "No, we started in the bedroom, but the beer's in here."

Raelyn shook her head. "This is punishment for the dead thing, isn't it?" Quinn and Eliot were snickering. "Fine, I'm going to bed."

Quinn grabbed her ankle, "No, wait."

Eliot started walking away. "I'm leaving, Rae. Use protection."

"Always."

"It's been such a fucked up couple of months, I enjoy a simple little, grab-the-thing deal," Raelyn said as she tucked the prototype of a C4 pistol into her pocket. "Did you get the tapes?"

Eliot nodded. "Let's go." They jogged towards the exit on the roof...and were greeted by two dozen guards holding rifles aimed at the two of them.

She took in a breath. "That's a lot of guns."

"It is," he agreed.

"What are the chances you can disarm enough that this goes back to being a smooth job?"

"Slim. What do you have on you?"

"A few knives, some zip ties, a C4 pistol prototype...oh, and half a dozen smoke bombs."

"Smoke bombs? Alright, make a screen, run, get to Vance."

She gripped his bicep. "How are you getting out?"

"Don't worry, I'll make it out."

She yanked his arm arm. "Look at me. If I even have the slightest inkling you're going to throw yourself on a grenade for me, I'm not moving."

He kissed her forehead. "I have an out, now go or I will throw you off this roof. Ega. As you go, make sure that you throw the guards behind you."

Her eyes narrowed and then she gave a single nod. She pulled the bombs out of her other pocket, lit them, threw, and ran. As she threw the first guard behind her and, consequently, towards him, he grabbed the rifle and cocked it. The only thing Eliot saw were the images that plagued his dreams for months; the battered dog tags in the rubble, the Death Folder, the mementos floating down the river. He began firing at the guards, the ones that he could see. Bullets came out of the smoke at him. He went for the roof access door and used it as a shield. When he ran out of shots, he picked up rifles from fallen guards and fired more.

The bullets stopped and the smoke cleared. The bodies of two dozen guards littered the roof. Eliot looked towards the edge of the roof, where the repelling rig that was the exit for him and Raelyn. And there was Raelyn kneeling with blood dripping from her side.

Shaking his head in denial, he leapt over the bodies to her side. As he reached her, she collapsed to a weak sitting position. Her face was twisted in pain and confusion. He wrapped his arm around her, keeping her sitting up. "Raelyn, honey, stay with me. It's going to be okay."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine." Her eyelids were fluttering.

"Vance, get me an emergency team now. Raelyn's been shot."

Vance's voice answered from the com in his ear, "Already on their way. She's tough, Eliot. She'll make it."

Raelyn kept repeating "I'm fine" until her voice trailed off, and she went completely limp.

Eliot looked at the pooling blood on the roof and saw the twisted, familiar face of the man he knew shot his daughter in his reflection.


	38. Chapter 38: Second Chances

Eliot sat staring at the painfully white walls of the emergency center. He hadn't slept in so long he wasn't really sure how long head been there. Raelyn laid in the bed next to him, hooked up to even scarier machines than last time. Last time, they knew Raelyn would wake up. She had been kept in a medically induced coma to heal, and it was just a matter of time. But this time around Raelyn had lost a lot of blood, but unlike last time, she had lost it very, very quickly. This time, however, it wasn't certain if she would wake up at all.

"Still haven't slept, have you?" He looked up to see Vance at the door. Vance shook his head. "You don't get any rest, you're going to end up in the bed next to her. Then she'll wake up just in time to kick your ass for ending up there."

Eliot sighed and shook his head. Vance was trying to make him laugh. He didn't want to tell Vance that any time he closed his eyes, he saw the jewelry in the river, the pool of blood. He hadn't told a soul he thought he was the one that shot her. "I appreciate the effort, man, but it's not going to help me sleep."

"You know, I have some sedatives that-"

"No. No sedatives. She got dependent on them twice. I don't want them around anymore unless it's medically necessary."

"It just might be."

"Not yet."

"Fine." Vance picked up the chart by the door and went over to check Raelyn's monitors. "Would you sleep if I gave you good news?"

Eliot refused to let hope boil up. "Hm," he said noncommittally.

"Increased brain activity. It's slight, but it's something. And her heartbeat looks like it might be stronger."

"Hm."

"Eliot, have a little faith. Do me a favor, take her hand. See if she has a reaction this time."

Eliot rolled his eyes and reached out to take Raelyn's hand. Hope hit him like a car when her fingers twitched. "She reacted!"

Even Vance's face lit up. "Brain activity's spiking! Try squeezing, not too hard though."

Eliot slowly increased his grip but rapidly pulled away when Raelyn moaned. They both looked up towards her face to see her head snap to the side and her eyes flutter open.

Hope mixed with fear when the first thing out of her mouth was "Ow."

"How are you feeling?" Eliot asked.

"Like there's a hammer imbedded in my skull." She pressed her palm to her forehead.

"I'll get you some painkillers," Vance told her.

"Which one of you is the doctor?" she asked.

"Honey, it's Dad. And Uncle Vance." She looked very confused still. Something was very, very wrong. At first, Eliot hypothesized that maybe she couldn't see right. He held up three fingers. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

Vance asked, "Sweetheart, can you tell me your name?"

"No."

"Why not?" Eliot's voice cracked.

"Because I don't know what it is."

Vance raised his eyebrows and avoided looking Eliot in the eye. "We, uh, we gotta run some tests."

"Eliot, there's no nice way to say this, you have absolutely lost your mind," Sophie told him.

"You're asking us to create fake memories of a fake life for your daughter because you think that'll make her happy?" Hardison asked derisively, his face of concern matching those of the other three members of the team as they stood in front of Eliot at the empty pub. Except Nate. Nate looked oddly sympathetic.

Eliot swept his hand through his hair. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Tell her the truth!" Parker demanded, her voice pitching higher in frustration.

Eliot raised his eyebrows and tilted his head back, looking at all of them scornfully. As he spoke, his voice gradually increased from almost a whisper..."You want me to go into that room, look at the girl in that bed, and tell her that she was born to two dumbass drunk teenagers. That her father left her behind to be with a mother that never wanted her, never made her feel loved, made her feel like a burden to the point that she ran away to go live with her dad. That her dad was a murderer. That when she was on the brink of finding happiness with an education and a boyfriend like every normal little girl, she decided to leave both to follow in her stupid father's footsteps. That what she got in return was her boyfriend beating her so bad she tried to kill herself. That when she finally recovered and found someone else to love, that woman turned out to work for the man that turned her father into a monster. That years later, that woman teamed up with the man that beat her to try to kill her and her father so she killed her ex-girlfriend, her ex-boyfriend, and their boss with her bare hands! That after that, she faked her death to protect her father! That she can't remember any of it because the same man she was protecting almost got her killed!"...To an outright roar. "THAT SHE LIVED SUCH A MISERABLE, SHIT LIFE THAT HER POOR EXCUSE FOR A FATHER IS THE ONLY ONE SHE HAS! IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT ME TO TELL HER?!" He grabbed a stool and threw it. Even in his rage, he threw it to the opposite side of the room from the rest of them.

He stormed down to the basement to escape, but they followed him. Nate, who had been strangely quiet, softly asked, "What happens if she gets her memory back?"

Eliot stared intently at the floor. "Then I don't have to tell her the truth."

Sophie tried to put a soothing hand on his arm, but he stepped out of her reach. "Eliot, you can't honestly think this is a good idea."

"I have a second...She has a second shot at life. I want to give her the one I owe her. And I need your help."

Hardison brushed nervously at his sleeves. "I just don't feel comfortable doing something like that. I mean, Raelyn and I are friends."

"Yeah," Parker agreed.

"It's one thing to get into the mind of a mark, it's another to toy-"

Eliot smacked his hand down on the ping-pong table. "I'm not asking. You know what? You guys do this for me or I am leaving this team." He fled back upstairs.

"Eliot!" Nate and Sophie called after him.

"You have a day to decide. I hear Quinn plays White Hat now, if you're looking for a replacement."


	39. Chapter 39: Seeds of Truth

"Alright, I'm going to go see her. I'll call you if anything changes. Thanks for your help. I owe you."

"Yes, you do," Sophie snipped. The five of them had just gotten done going through Raelyn's house and removing any trace of her retrieving career and replacing it with the life he created. They'd convinced him to put it away instead of destroying it in case Raelyn regained her memory.

"I'm just waiting for this to blow up in your face," Parker interjected.

"Amen to that," Hardison agreed. Nate, as he had through a lot of the situation, stayed quiet, and Eliot left.

"Do you remember anything?" Eliot asked as he walked into Raelyn's infirmary room.

She was sitting up and looking relatively well if not emotionally stressed. She shook her head. "No."

"Nothing at all?" She shook her head again. He sighed and leaned against the foot of the bed. Ignoring every voice in his head screaming at him not to do it, he explained, "Your name is Allison Tate. I'm your father."

Her eyes narrowed in thought. "So what happened to my mom?"

"She died in a drunk driving accident when you were little." Eliot knew the best lies had seeds of truth.

"What happened to me?"

"You were shot in a robbery."

"Did I lose anything important?"

"Besides your memory? No."

"What happened to the robbers?"

"They were killed."

"Oh. That's good, I guess. What does 'toi uhusti' mean?"

Eliot furrowed his brow. "It's Cherokee. It means 'still strong'. Where did you hear that?"

She shift the blankets down past her legs. "It's tattooed above my knee. I know Cherokee?"

"You know a little. Your mother was over half Cherokee and I'm about a quarter, so you're about half."

"Interesting. Who's Eliot Spencer?"

He took a step back. "How do you know that name?"

She pulled the silver chain around her neck, producing the dog tags. "These."

He sighed. "I'm Eliot Spencer. You wear my dog tags as a good luck charm."

"Some luck." Oh great, the snark was still there.

"You woke up, didn't you?"

"That's true. Why do I have a different last name than you? Was I married?"

He choked on the laugh. "No, no. You're not married. Relationships aren't your thing. You have your mother's last name. We, uh, we weren't married."

"So I guess I take after you in the marriage department." He made a noncommittal noise. "Do I have a job? Or did I?"

"You teach jujitsu. And you make and sell jewelry. But that's more of a hobby that pays for itself."

"Hm." She rubbed her forehead.

"You okay?" He went to the head of the bed and felt her forehead. He tried to ignore the feeling of distance as she looked up at him.

"My head hurts. And my stomach. Where the hole is, I think. And I can't remember the last time I ate. Though, that could be par for the course. Maybe I ate and don't remember." There were notes of frustration or even sadness in her voice.

"It's going to be okay, honey." He squeezed her hand. "I'm going to go see Vance and ask him about getting you something to eat. You're going to be on pretty bland food for a while until your intestines heal."

"Lame," she responded as he headed towards the door. He glanced back at her. The sadness in her eyes was painful. Raelyn would be irritated and make a lot of jokes. But Allison was sad.

Vance was just around the corner. "Hey, Rae-Allison was wondering about getting something to eat. What can we do about that?"

"I cannot believe you went through with this, Spencer," Vance grumbled.

"Please don't do this to me, Vance."

"You're doing it to yourself."

"Will you-"

Vance handed him a form. "Take this to the canteen. They'll give you a meal safe for her to eat."

"Tha-"

"Shoo." Vance waved him off and walked away.

Allison ate, and thankfully, was able to keep it all down. Unfortunately, the pain meds put her to sleep shortly afterward, so Eliot decided to go for a walk. Not long into his endeavour, a hand landed on his shoulder. The hand belonged to Quinn.

"Hey, they won't let me in to see Rae. Can you vouch for me?"

"No."

Quinn's brow furrowed. "Why...not?"

"Because I don't want you seeing her."

Quinn's eyebrows raised and there was a familiar glint of irritation in his eye. "Why?"

Eliot started to walk past him. "You're not part of her life any more."

Quinn shoved Eliot against a nearby wall. "You can't stop me from seeing her. I'll just wait until she gets out, and see her at her apartment."

"She's not going to remember you," Eliot sneered.

Quinn slammed him against the wall again. "Come again?"

Eliot sighed, knowing that Quinn would go to her apartment and ruin everything. "She lost her memory. She doesn't remember anything. What she'll remember now is the life she was supposed to have. Or at least close enough to it that she never ends up here again."

Quinn pulled away from Eliot like the contact burned him. "You are a sick son of a bitch to fuck with your daughter's life like that."

"Normally, I have some fancy, graphic threat, but I know that's not going to phase you. If you come near her, I will kill you. Now get out of here. I've kept you from seeing her, but I'm the only one stopping you from getting shot just by being on this property. Everyone here knows who you are and what you've done. You may be White Hat now, but you haven't done near what I've done for these people. Leave."

Quinn disappeared and Eliot continued his walk. However, shortly into his second try, Vance approached him. "We're having some problems."


	40. Chapter 40: Allison

Eliot followed Vance to see the familiar sight of Raelyn/Allison tugging at sensors and monitors looking panicked. He questioned the possibility that she had regained her memory. He approached carefully. "Honey, you wanna tell me what's going on?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. I just want out of here. I don't want to be here. I feel like I'm suffocating. I wanna...I wanna go home...And I don't even know where home is."

Eliot immediately thought of Charlie in Texas, but she was barely physically stable. There was a lot of emotion attached to Seven Days. He wasn't sure if he was ready to take Allison where Raelyn felt at home. He swatted the guilt away.

"You still don't like hospitals, huh? Well, that's nothing new." He knelt next to the bed, and helped the staff carefully replace the IVs and sensors. "Baby, we still have another day or two here, okay? You heal fast, but you still got a few tests you gotta go through before it's safe to take you home. And even then, you know, you gotta take it easy." She still looked very frustrated and even confused. He had an idea and picked up the phone in the room. "Hey, Parker, I need you to pick some stuff up from my place and bring it by the emergency center."

"Mr. Spencer," a nurse interjected once he hung up, "we wanted to know if you were okay with giving her a few sedatives to-"

"No. No sedatives unless it is absolutely medically necessary. She's fine." Allison looked at him with a furrowed brow. Eliot shook his head. "We'll talk about it later."

Fifteen minutes later, Parker came in with a little wooden chest the size of a shoe box. She barely acknowledged anyone in the room and left. "Thank you," Eliot said to the empty air.

"Do you think you can sit up, sweetie?" She nodded, and he helped shift her to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He carefully maneuvered behind her, being careful of the monitors. He flipped open the chest to reveal several varieties of stone beads, leather cord, and a wooden-handled boar-hair brush. He took her hair out of the relaxed ponytail it had been thrown in merely to keep it out of the way and started to brush her hair. Her shoulders immediately started to relax. After copious brushing, he began braiding in the leather and beads, telling her what each different bead represented. "Feel better?"

"Yeah. A lot better. How...how did you know to do that?"

"I've had to do it before."

"A lot."

"Not a lot. Just sometimes. I didn't just do it when you were sad, though. Sometimes, you just wanted to dress up your hair. You would do it to mine too."

She carefully turned to face him. "Really?"

He nodded. "Mm-hm."

She brushed her fingers through his hair. "Can I try?"

"If you think you remember."

He knew she had some memory of it when she picked up only turquoise, tiger's eyes, and onyx beads. It was heart-warming, but it also made him nervous. What if she was remembering the truth?

Allison was soon released to go home. Eliot kept her around his place. He had taken her to her place, but she never wanted to stay unless he was there, so he took her home. Eventually, he had to go on a job. When she asked what he did, he kind of spat out. "I'm a cop. I work undercover a lot. With those people we have dinner with. They're cops too." It was a poor cover, but it seemed effective. "You gonna be okay on your own?"

"Yeah. You'll be back by tonight, right? Waking up kinda sucks."

Eliot knew he couldn't make promises. "I-I'll try, honey." He kissed her forehead and left.

Half an hour later, there was a knock at the door. Allison opened it to find a blonde man in a ponytail in jeans, a t-shirt, leather jacket, and work boots. He seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him. "Can I help you?"

Quinn sighed. "You don't recognize me, huh? I'm Quinn. I'm a friend."

"Of mine or my dad's?"

"Yours."

"Why didn't my dad tell me about you?"

He pursed his lips. "Your dad doesn't tell you a lot of things." Her eyes narrowed, but it was in confusion instead of mistrust, which gave him hope. "He doesn't like me."

"Why?" It was a question of curiosity, still no mistrust.

"It's complicated."

"Makes sense."

"Really?"

"You feel familiar. And he seems distant. I always have to ask. He never just tells me. And he always sees reluctant to answer."

He gave a nod. "Sounds like him. Can I come in?"

She stepped aside and let him in. She followed him to the couch. "So what is he not telling me?"

"Your name is Raelyn. You're what's known as a retrieval specialist. It's the professional term for hitter or...hitman. Those are the major ones."

"That explains some things."

"What do you mean?"

"Nightmares. I wake up, and I'm inexplicably sore and tired for a few minutes and I remember there's always a lot of blood in the dream. Or nightmare."

"What did your dad say when you told him?"

"I haven't."

"Why?" It wasn't accusatory, just curious.

She shrugged. "He didn't ask. And he probably wasn't going to have an explanation." She put her head in her hands. "Uuuuuggghhhh."

"What-what's wrong?" He reached for her but thought better of it.

"Number one, my head and stomach and back constantly hurt."

He reached into his pocket. "I have so Aleve. Oh, wait, you don't take pills." She looked at him curiously. "What?"

"It's...nice...that you know that, that someone besides my dad knows about me."

"You haven't met the team?"

"They've visited in the infirmary and come by here a few times. The whole lying thing makes even more sense there. They always seem irritated with him, and they're especially nice to me, even though they're more distant than he is."

Quinn nodded. "They're good people."

"Then why are they lying to me?"

"I don't think it's because they want to. That's probably why they seem upset with him. But they are decent guys."

"I get that."

"Was there a number two to that 'uuughhh'?"

"Huh? Oh yeah. I'm just...I'm just frustrated that I can't remember. Everything's being told to me."

"I was thinking that maybe it'd help if you went places that had strong memories attached to them."

She shrugged. "You would think mine or my dad's house would do that."

"Maybe you need a place that's more connected to you."

"Like where?"

"Texas. Your dad told you that's where you're from, right?"

"He did."

"Unfortunately, the only way to get there without him catching up would be to fly, but-"

"I hate flying."

"Yup."

She stood up. "But I hate this memory limbo more. So let's grab a flight. And probably some booze. Do they allow booze on planes?"

"They do if you have a private jet. Which I do." He put his arm around her. When he realized the mistake, he expected her to flinch, but she didn't.

"Well, I know why I'm friends with you." He snorted. Raelyn was in there somewhere.


	41. Beer, Hard Lemonade, & a Jalapeno

Quinn took Raelyn/Allison to Jack's Bar &amp; Dance Hall once he'd calmed her down from the flight. "Why are we in a bar?"

"This is your favorite bar; they love you."

"Jamie!" Jack called from the bar. "It's been a while. Quinn, it's been even longer!"

"I thought my name was Raelyn," she murmured quietly in Quinn's ear.

He answered, "Raelyn is the name you use with close friends and family. Jamie Andrews is your work name. It's to protect you and your dad. Have a seat, I'll get drinks."

Raelyn/Allison/Jamie grabbed a seat at an empty table near the back. Quinn met her with two identical drinks and set one in front of her. "Anything coming to you?"

"This place feels...right, but no details. Why do they love me?"

"You're kind of a bouncer. Guys get too handsy, and you hand their ass to them and throw them out. The occasional woman too, but that's like once a year. "

She was impressed. "Hm. That's nice of me."

"And for that reason, you have a drink named after you, or rather Jamie. One part jalapeno juice mixed with three parts Shiner Bock, and three parts hard lemonade."

She looked intrigued but cautious then took a huge gulp. Her face lit up. "That is delicious. I'm a genius!"

Quinn got hopeful. "You remember?"

"Not everything. I remember you. At first, I felt I could trust, but now I know. I know. It's not specific, but I have memories. Like sitting on the hood of a mustang drinking beer."

He grinned. "We do that a lot. Anything more than sitting around drinking?"

"Not yet. Any other ideas?"

"A few. Why don't we finish this drink, see if anything comes up, then we'll try somewhere else?"

She agreed. When the drink was finished about half an hour later, she asked, "What else ya got?"

He asked delicately, "Did your dad tell you anything about Seven Days? Or Charlie?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, Charlie is the horse I rode when I was a barrel racer until I got sick. Seven Days is the ranch where we keep Charlie?"

"Got sick, huh? Nevermind. Let's saddle up."

Quinn trudged towards the barn where Charlie was kept with Raelyn/Allison/Jamie. She kept looking around with narrowed eyes like she was searching for something. "What is it?" he asked.

"It feels like my memory has a film over it. Things are familiar, but nothing has sharp memories. Even drinking on the Mustang, I can't remember conversation, I just remember the feeling of camaraderie." She ran her hand over her scalp. "It's just frustrating."

He brushed his fingers down her arm. "I know. We're going to deal with this."

They stepped into the barn, and she set eyes on the charcoal quarter-horse that spearheaded her adolescence. "Charlie!" She grabbed hold of her head and fell forward as if she'd been struck.

Quinn reached for her. "Hey! You okay?" She was shaking but her breathing got deeper. "What are you remembering?"

She looked him in the eye. "Everything." He started to ask her something, but she told him, "I need you to leave."

"I can't leave you like this."

"Just take a walk or something. I need to be alone right now. Come back in half an hour."

"Raelyn, are-"

She took a fistful of his shirt and brought her face less than an inch from his. "Get the hell away from me, or you will become collateral damage in the unfathomable shit fit I am about to have." She shoved him away.

"Okay, okay." He marched away at a quick pace. Even at his speed, he could hear her howling for quite the distance.

She screamed and threw the straw that carpeted the barn. She beat against the empty stall doors and tore the beads and leather out of her hair. "Lying son of a bitch!" she bellowed. A wave of sadness washed over the rage. She went into Charlie's stall and pressed herself against the wall as she slid down to the floor. The sobs and wails echoed in the cavernous barn. This was why she sent Quinn away. Crying was an abomination it itself. Crying in front of people was an absolute sin.

It was true that this wasn't the only time her father had ever hidden things from her or lied to her, but this was a whole other level. This was life-changing. More than life-changing. He was trying to change her.

She pulled her braid over her shoulder and examined it through the tears. For the first time, she considered cutting it. Her uncut hair was one of her most prominent symbols of her Cherokee heritage. Cutting your own hair was acceptable when you were leaving a past behind. There were so many things in her life Raelyn wanted to leave behind but never so much she considered cutting her hair.

She caught her breath and held the encroaching panic attack at bay. She cleaned her face as best she could with the hose by the barn and went to find Quinn. It didn't take long as he was heading back to the barn.

He gave her a once-over and raised his eyebrows. "Whoa, are you-"

She put up a hand. "Don't say anything." She pulled out her phone and dialed. "Hey, Dad? Are you coming home tonight?"

Quinn heard Eliot's voice on the other line. "I don't think so, honey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I was actually thinking I would just head home, you know, to my place. I mean, I can't get used to waking up there if I never wake up there."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Do you think we could do dinner with everybody when you guys are done?"

"Yeah, sweetie, I'm sure everybody'd love that. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. But can you just, um, call me in the morning?"

"Of course, sweetie. Look, I actually gotta go, but I will call you in the morning, okay? Love you, bye."

"Love you, too. Bye, Dad." She hung up the phone and a malicious smile spread across her lips.

Quinn sputtered, "I shouldn't be impressed, but I am."

Raelyn tilted her head to the side. "I am impressive."


	42. Chapter 42: Smudging

They had to take the jet back to Portland. This time, Raelyn was herself enough to drink heavily to keep herself relatively calm. "So you're going to confront the whole team?" Quinn asked.

She slurred slightly. "I'm very aware that everybody else was manipulated into playing along. So, no. I'm going to confront him in front of his team."

"Brutal. Um, what exactly are you going to do to him?"

"I'm going to beat the crap out of him. And then when I feel better, I'll figure out what to do from there."

"Good plan."

"Yup."

Quinn shifted to sit closer to her. "I'm sorry about this Raelyn. I wanted you to know the truth, but it didn't hit me that this was painful for you until the truth actually hit. It sucks that your dad did this to you."

"You know the shittiest part about it? The really shitty part? I'm not shocked. At all. My father took my life and twisted it into what he wanted, twisting me into what he wanted. And I'm not surprised. That's the thing that gets me the most."

He put his arm around her. "I'm sorry. I really am. I didn't realize you and your dad had such a tough time."

She shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it."

After they landed and Raelyn knocked back a couple more beers (landing was the worst), she asked Quinn, "Hey, I know we've done a lot today, but can we make one last stop before you drop me off back at my place?"

"How about I stay the night at your place? No expectations. Except I wanna be invited to the show tomorrow. And I don't think you should be alone tonight," he added tentatively.

She smiled. "Thanks, Quinn."

"So where to?"

"My bat cave."

They arrived at her storage unit. She lifted the door and was pleasantly surprised to see a bunch of cardboard boxes she didn't put there. After a cursory inspection, she commented, "Two birds, one stone. At least, he didn't throw out my stuff, and now I don't have to ask him where it is."

Quinn was about to ask what she was after when she climbed over several boxes and flipped open what turned out to be a weapons chest. "Uh..." It got better, or worse, he wasn't sure which, when she started sliding brass knuckles on her fingers. "Brass knuckles? People still use those?"

She shrugged. "I've broken my knuckles too many to go without them anymore."

"You're not hitting properly."

"Striking isn't the only way to break your knuckles."

"True."

"You have a pickup truck, right?"

"I do."

"At some point this week, will you help me move my stuff back to my place? There's a steak dinner in it for you."

"Of course."

She climbed out of the storage unit and hugged him. "I don't know how to thank you."

He patted her shoulders. "You just promised me a steak dinner."

"I mean for telling me the truth."

He pulled back to look her in the eye. "I told you, I'm White Hat, now. The truth is my employer."

Her face puckered as she tried not to laugh. "That was the dumbest way you could have said that, man."

His face fell. "It was." He gave her a playful shove. "You needed your memory back because I don't have any other friends, Rae."

"Yes, you do."

"Friends that have sex with me."

"Yes, you do."

"Friends that have sex with me after backing me in a bar fight."

"Alright, I'll give you that."

"It's weird to be in here. My...home has been...edited," Raelyn said as she stepped through her front door.

Quinn followed behind. "We'll fix it."

"I actually haven't taken a good look around. I wasn't at all comfortable here when I couldn't remember anything. I get why now." She started wandering around the house examining things. Finally, she opened the door to what he thought was a study. "Oh, good. I still have my motorcycle and my smudging room. So there's that."

"Smudging room?" Quinn asked. He peeked in to see a dark wooden table with a brass plate, hand fan, various herbs, and matches on it.

"Smudging is a purification and prayer ceremony common in Cherokee, well, a lot of Native American cultures."

He nodded with comprehension. "I've heard of it. We've know each other like four or five years and I've never known what goes on in there."

She stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed behind her. "My heritage is not a spectacle, Quinn."

"I didn't mean it like that. It's just that you always reference it in these passive ways. You never actually talk about it, even though it's clearly a big deal to you."

"You're a real sap, you know that?"

He put a hand to his chest in mock offense. "What? Because I'm male, I can't be sensitive?"

"No, because you're friends with me, you can't be a giant sap," she responded in a flat tone but with a smirk on her face.

With the same facetious air, he said, "You know, you lost your compassion when you lost your memory."

The smirk faded. "You have your memory manipulated by your father, let's see how compassionate you are." She started to walk away; he put a light hand on her shoulder. She flinched, and so did he. "I'm just tired. And tomorrow's going to suck. I'm going to bed."

"Good idea. I'll be on the couch if you need me."

She pulled on his arm. "I don't wanna sleep alone."

Quinn rolled his eyes. "You went from 'you're a giant sap' to 'I don't wanna sleep alone'. The roller coaster inside your head must be fun." She sagged against the wall and sighed. "You've never been this...soft before, though?"

Her eyes were glassy, a state he had only seen induced with alcohol, and her voice was weak. "Quinn, the one person I've depended on for emotional support my entire life betrayed me. And if you ever mention this, I'll set you on fire in your sleep."

"There we go."


	43. Chapter 43: The Biggest Can of Worms

A/N: Bit of a heads up, we discuss what Eliot did for Moreau in this chapter.

Quinn woke up to the sound of a ringing phone. Through bleary eyes, he saw Raelyn scurry into the room and grab the phone off the nightstand. "Hi, Daddy."

He furrowed his brow at the pet name. He heard Eliot's voice through the phone again. "Hey, honey, you sleep okay? Or wake up okay?"

"Mostly. Had a bit of a headache, but I remembered where I was. I think maybe I might be starting to get better."

"Th-that's great, honey!" Quinn stifled a laugh.

Raelyn put a finger to her lips. "So I'll see you in a little bit, at dinner?"

"Uh-huh."

"Talk to you later, Dad. Love you."

"Love you, too." She hung up the phone, and her face scrunched in annoyance.

"Is your phone speaker really loud or do I just have really good hearing?" Quinn asked.

"Little of both."

"I can't tell if you're disgusted or amused with this whole thing."

"Little of both," she repeated flatly.

A few hours later, they were pulling up three blocks from Eliot's place and Raelyn stopped them. "Hold up here."

"Why?"

"We're going to be fashionably late. I want to make sure everyone is there before I get there."

"Wow, you're not usually one for an audience."

"Neither is he. Especially in front of them. I'm looking to make a point."

"Alright then," he said through an exhale as he shifted in his seat.

She stared straight ahead through the windshield. "Is there a problem?"

"No. Well, I'm conflicted. I don't hate Eliot. I respect him in a lot of ways. I do want to see him face the consequences for what he did to you."

"But?"

"But I'm worried about how far you're going to take this. I mean, he is your dad."

"Yeah." She looked at him. The hurt in her eyes was evident. "He's my dad."

He wasn't sure how long they sat there before Raelyn's phone rang again. "Hey, Dad."

"Hey honey, where are you? Everybody's already here for dinner; we're waiting on you."

"Yeah, sorry, I'm on my way. I'll be there in like five minutes."

"Alright."

She hung up. "Pull up a block away. We'll walk from there."

He tried to put a supportive arm around, but shortly after, while not immediately, she shrugged it off. He tried to shield his concern from her. When they got to the front door, He told her, "I'm going to hang back until you need me. I'd like to not incur his wrath at the moment."

She nodded. "Good plan."

With no warning, she did a powerful spin kick at the door hinge and knocked it out of the frame in splinters. The debri cleared. Eliot brandished a knife. The rest of the team peeked out from behind the fridge that they took cover behind.

"What the fuck?" Eliot said, lowering the knife.

However, it had dawned on the rest of the time. "Oh, hell," Hardison groaned.

"Uh oh," Parker quipped quietly.

"Well, that happened quicker than I thought," Sophie mused. Nate just cleared his throat.

"What is going on?" Eliot said, trying to stay calm.

Raelyn spoke low, slow and deliberately as she glared at her father. "Allison Tate, huh?"

Eliot's eyes widened. "Raelyn, no," he pleaded.

She took a running start, leapt over the remnants of the door. Eliot dropped the knife, instinctively wanting to avoid hurting her. She slammed into him full weight. Immediately, with rage-powered-strength, clothes ripped, blood flowed, and bones were reaching their limit. She was growling incoherently, and her knees pressed into his stomach.

He didn't dare hit her back. He just tried to cover himself. "Anyone wanna give me a hand here?" he choked through the increasing pain.

He didn't see who leaned forward to help, but he did see Nate hold whoever it was back. "Tell you what, Eliot, I won't let her kill you."

"Dammit, Nate!"

"You really think you don't have this coming? Asking didn't help. Maybe this will."

Eliot watched his own blood from his broken nose splatter across her face. His restraint was growing thin when her hands wrapped around his neck. Shortly after that, he literally thanked God, when Nate and Hardison finally hauled her off him kicking and screaming. "Get off me! Get the fuck off me! I'm not finished yet!" That was when Quinn stepped in, and Nate and Hardison handed her off to him. "Let go of me, you traitor!"

Quinn shook her. "Raelyn! I appreciate the anger, I do, but this is one body you don't want on your hands."

She stopped struggling and turned around to face Eliot again. "Fine! But I'm still not done. You wanna try to take my life away from me? I'm going to fuck up yours." She took a step forward. "Do they know what you did for Moreau?"

"How do-"

"You didn't look at any of the other files in that storage unit, did you? The one with my Death Folder? The one you tried to pack the life I built for myself into? A lot of those files are yours. Did you forget the reason everyone knows who you are is because everyone knows what you did? And I may not have the bank account you do, but I make enough to get detailed accounts of the things you did in writing. Including your impressive resume under Damien Moreau. Do they know what you did? The one that broke you?"

"Stop," Eliot pleaded.

She held eye contact with him. "Everyone talks about Belgrade like it was one incident, but it was several. Did you start hating guns after Belgrade, or did you use them because it was a special occasion? There are a lot of orphans in Serbia. Everyone knows that. Thankfully, there's also a few foster homes so that kids don't always have to get shipped across the country or to some orphanage. Moreau's signature back in the day was to take a target and get rid of everyone around them; spouse, kids, roomates, any neighbors that happened to step out to see, eliminate all witnesses. The parents were cops of some sort on Moreau's tail. They had three kids, foster kids. A brother and sister, nine and seven, the brother had a walker, and another little girl who was ten. He shot them, a family of five, execution style, point blank." The venom faded from her voice. "I remember the day it happened. You changed."

"Get out," Eliot demanded, broken in every way.

"Gladly." Raelyn turned and began to pull Quinn through the empty frame that held the front door.

"Quinn, you son-of-a-bitch, I know you did this, and you're going to pay for it!"

Without looking back, Raelyn responded, "Touch him and I'll finish the job. He was the only one brave enough to tell me the truth. No one on this earth can protect you, galonuhesgi." And they were gone.

Parker reached for him. "Get out," Eliot whined.

"Eliot," Sophie cooed sympathetically.

"Get out! All of you! Out!" he bellowed.

And he was left alone bleeding and wheezing on his kitchen floor. The salty tears burned his eyes. He had never felt lower than this. He had to relive what used to be the worst day of his life, but this topped it.


	44. Chapter 44: Wild Turkey & Angel's Envy

"You clean up nice," Vance remarked. "Not too tight, not too short, not too low cut. I'm kind of proud."

Raelyn shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I'm provocative, not stupid. You picked this fancy-schmancy place, and I know you have a wife. Despite my own noncommittal ways, I'm not in the business of ruining relationships." She wore a knee length black dress that was sleeveless but not strapless with a boat neckline that just revealed her collarbone and an olive green scarf. "You don't look bad yourself, Colonel."

He was wearing a simple but sharp charcoal gray suit. He stepped up to the maître d' and said, "Two for Vance."

"It really is just the two of us?" she asked warily.

"Yes, why?"

"You, a married man, me, a single promiscuous woman, in a place like this, alone together?"

"We're both honorable people, you know that's not what this is about."

They got to the table. "Yeah, I'm wondering what it is about. Restaurants like this come at a price, and I'm not referring to money."

"You definitely inherited your father's paranoia." He pulled out her chair.

She took a step away. "With the things I've done-"

"There's no such thing as paranoia, I know. I've heard it before. Go ahead, take a seat."

"If you brought me here to talk about my father, I'm leaving."

She turned to leave. He put a careful hand on her shoulder, and she resisted the urge to retaliate. "I'm not here to talk about your father. Please, sit down." She looked intently into his eyes for a moment and sat down. He took his seat as the waitress approached the table. "I don't think we're ready to order entrees, but we could probably do a couple glasses of bourbon. I'll have Angel's Envy, and she'll have..."

Raelyn smirked at the suggestion. "Wild Turkey, please."

"Good choice," he murmured as the waitress walked away.

"Bourbon. Are you trying to seduce me, Colonel Vance?" He pursed his lips smugly and stayed silent. "What is it you want, Vance?"

"Seduction is a slow art, Raelyn."

"How would you know, Married Man?"

"How do you think I got my wife?"

"Touche."

"So what are you thinking?"

"Porterhouse. You?"

"Prime rib."

"Good choice." Just in time, the waitress came over to take their orders and deliver the bourbon. "The bourbon too." He raised his glass and she tapped hers against his. After taking a sip, he asked, "Have you ever tried Angel's Envy?"

She shook her head, taking a sip of her own. "I thought it was kind of gimmicky."

He handed his glass towards her. "Here, have a taste, trade me. I haven't had Wild Turkey since your dad and I were-" Her face tightened, and he stopped his train of thought. "I'm sorry. Um, seriously, taste this. It's good."

While avoiding eye contact, she traded glasses with him. She gently swirled the liquid around in the glass and inhaled several times then took a sip. "You're right; that's good."

"See?" He sniffed and took a drink from her glass. He sighed. "Oh, that tastes like home."

"Doesn't it?" She set his glass down in front of him and reached for her own. "Alright, give it back." He chuckled and handed her back her glass as the waitress delivered their plates. Without ceremony, they cut into their steaks. A few bites in, she dipped her fork into her bourbon and punctured a bite of steak with it. Vance looked at her curiously. "It's delicious, try it."

He followed suit and nodded. "You're a genius."

"I am."

"Speaking of your genius, I'd like to put it to use."

"Ah, here we go. Whatcha got for me?" She leaned in.

"I'd like you to teach one of the hand-to-hand combat classes."

She furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"I've seen you fight. You're good."

"That doesn't make me qualified to teach. Plus, you can't teach a combat class solo."

"You'll have an assistant."

She lowered her voice. "Vance, you know I have a reputation. I don't work with others."

"You make most of your living infiltrating teams. You're an independent contractor but you do work with others."

"Not that closely."

"You get to spend your day handing your assistant's ass to them."

"You don't have anyone more qualified?"

"Why are you questioning this so hard?"

"Because it doesn't make sense. I'm the person you call when you need a quick grab. This is a long job. Probably longer than I deal with."

"Six weeks, 4 days a week, $2500 a week. If this class goes well, we can pull you on perm-"

"I don't want to go on permanently. I don't know if I want to do this at all. This isn't my gig."

"Raelyn, you haven't worked since-"

She leaned back and ran an irritated tongue over her teeth. "How do you know that?"

With a sigh, he held up her phone. "You haven't answered any work calls."

She spoke with a growl through her teeth. "You lifted my phone?" She started shaking. "Did it occur to you just how much I wouldn't appreciate my privacy being invaded like that in light of recent events?"

"I was-"

She was having trouble regulating her breathing. "If you say were just trying to help, I'm going to set you on fire."

He took a breath. "You don't want to make a scene," he warned deliberately.

She tilted her head maniacally and appeared to yank something out from beneath her skirt. "No. Why would I do that?" she retorted quietly as she held up his wallet.

Vance raised his eyebrows, but it wasn't in surprise. "So you lifting my wallet isn't an invasion of privacy?"

"I was anticipating a need for collateral."

"Interesting." He put her phone in front of her. "You need to work. I know you do."

"I don't need money."

"It's never been about money, Raelyn. Not for you. Money's always been a perk. At least the amount you were getting. You need to go back to work, but you're too disoriented to pick up your normal jobs. I'm offering you this one to ease back into things." She stayed silent for several minutes. "Earth to Raelyn?"

"I will do this. But you owe me a steak dinner where you don't ask me for something. And remember to use the Jamie Andrews alias." She swallowed the last of her bourbon, dropped his wallet on the table, and left, leaving her phone behind.


	45. Chapter 45: The Assistant

Raelyn rolled over and angrily answered her phone. Vance had dropped by to return and go over the paperwork the afternoon following the dinner facade. "This is Andrews."

"Rise and shine, Miss Andrews, I got you a shiny red apple for your first day!" Vance's too damn jubilant voice pierced through her phone.

"Number one, we're not calling me 'Miss Andrews'. Ever. Go with 'Andrews', 'Jamie', or hell, even 'Coach'. But don't ever 'Miss' me. Number two, my class is supposed to start tomorrow...and in the afternoon not...Dammit, Vance! It's 5:30 in the morning! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"My day starts early, and I wanted to get this call out of the way."

"What in the name of all that is holy is so damn urgent?"

"You know, some people would take offense at your abrasiveness. I, however, appreciate that you get to the point so quickly."

"Would you return the favor by getting to yours?"

"I want you to come in and get to know your assistant before classes."

"Fine. When?"

"Two this afternoon." Raelyn made a noise of unenthusiastic acceptance. "I'll buy you lunch," he pressed.

"I don't like it when you buy me food. You always annoy me when you do it."

"Free food."

"Okay, but a burger joint. I am in no mood to get dressed."

"You mean dressed up?"

"I know what I fuckin' said. I'll meet you at 12:30 and not any earlier." And Raelyn rolled over and hung up before he could dispute.

Vance had to leave lunch early, and Raelyn was too engrossed in her burger to pay attention to why, nonchalantly promising to meet him on the base. She strutted into the base in daisy dukes and a baggy t-shirt with all the hems hacked off. When suspicious guards stepped forward to bar her, she pulled the waistband of her pants to reveal her badge. "Fuck off," she said casually as she passed them with their uncomfortable looks.

"I was hoping you'd change before you got here," Vance murmured in her ear when he caught sight of her.

"Why would I change?" she asked in a condescending tone, making it obvious that she was doing this entirely to get on his nerves.

He sighed in exasperation. "We'll be meeting in the workout room down the hall from my office. I'll be there in a second. There's a little security snafu I have to handle."

She meandered to the workout room, giving Vance time to catch up. When she heard his measured footsteps behind her, she kept a pace ahead. She opened the door, looked up, and stopped dead in her tracks. He wasn't looking her direction, but she was unmistakably looking at her father. "You backstabbing son-of-a-bitch!" She wheeled around, fist at the ready, and took a swing at Vance. He caught her arm and kept calm. She didn't. "He's my assistant?! Is this a joke to you?"

Eliot turned around at the commotion. It didn't take long for him to catch on to the travesty. "Wait, I'm working under her? You gotta be fuckin' kidding me!"

Raelyn started shoving against Vance, trying to fight him or get past him, she hadn't made up her mind. The tussle didn't last long though. While Vance had truly pissed her off, she had a lot of respect for him and finally backed off. Raelyn and Eliot started screaming at him at the same time and held up a hand. "One angry Cherokee at a time, children. And, let's get you out of each other's reach for now." He guided Raelyn to be by the door. "Alright, I'm going to let Eliot go first, since he's dressed more appropriately and his first instinct wasn't to punch me and he hasn't lifted my wallet...recently." Eliot raised an eyebrow at Raelyn, and she not so subtly flipped him off. Vance swatted her hand down and gestured for Eliot to speak.

"First of all, I don't understand how the hell I'm working underneath her."

Vance crossed his arms. "Believe it or not, she's more stubborn than you. You like to teach. I'd knew you'd eventually take the job as the assistant. She, however, would avoid taking the job at all; I'd never get her to be an assistant. Especially not under you." Eliot huffed. "Do you want to work this out or not?" he pressed quietly.

"Was this his idea?" Raelyn interjected loudly.

Vance held a hand up again. "No, it was not, and hush, it's not your turn. Is there a second of all, Eliot?"

Eliot crossed his arms so he wasn't facing Vance or Raelyn directly. "She's not going to work with me."

"Is that a problem on your end? I don't think so." He turned to Raelyn. "If you don't mind, you and I are going to talk outside." They stepped outside and he leaned against the closed door.

Raelyn kept her voice low to start. "I can't believe you would do something like this."

"Can't you?"

She crossed her arms. They were a fan of that here. "Not this far. He's right. I'm not working with him. I don't even want to see his face."

"If you don't, I'll connect Jamie Andrews to the murder of Damien Moreau, and you will probably be killed."

"No, you won't," she said certainly.

He sighed. "Okay, you're right. I'd never do that."

She put her hand out. "It was nice working here, Colonel Vance, but I think my time here is done.

He laid his hand over hers, denying the parting handshake. "Raelyn, you're going to get paid to hand his ass to him over and over, and he can't do anything about it but quit." Her eyes narrowed as she stared into his. "Come on, you know you want to."Her eyes shifted in thought, and she gave a slight nod. He reached for the door knob. "Good girl." She twitched at the unacceptable phrase but said nothing. "Let me handle the other side of this. Don't run off."

Raelyn leaned against the closed door to casually eavesdrop. She couldn't make out any words, but Eliot wasn't putting up as much of a fight as she was. She didn't expect him to, though. The door opened, and she made no effort to hide her actions. With an unamused expression, Vance invited her back in. "Shake hands, be civil, or I will handcuff the both of you and let her kill you."

"Why are you counting on her killing me?"

"She has a worse temper than you do." Eliot silently conceded.

She stepped just within arm's reach of her father and waited with folded arms until he cautiously put his hand out. She didn't move until Vance cleared his throat. She gave another beat and shook his hand the bare minimum amount before sharply pulling away.

She saw the pain in his eyes as his hand was still out. And he saw nothing in hers. Raelyn Spencer was not in those eyes. It was entirely the Jamie Andrews that people worked with.


	46. Chapter 46: Lessons

"Remember to keep some semblance of civility. It's your first class, so I'll be watching," Vance warned. He stepped into the classroom (it was a work out room half-converted) and held the door. "Holding pattern until I introduce you." He had them planted on either side of the door frame in the hallway, out of arm's reach of other. Raelyn hadn't made eye contact with Eliot at all. Vance stepped into the classroom and the group of trainees in their twenty-somethings quieted their murmuring. "Welcome to Advanced Hand-to-Hand Combat. You will be taught by two of the best fighters I've witnessed in my career. Your assistant coach is an internationally notorious retrieval specialist who could take down all eighteen of you at once and go another round: Eliot Spencer." Eliot strolled in and gave a charming wave to the tune of excited murmuring and even scattered applause. "You head coach is a legend all her own, making a name for herself already at the young age of 25, one of the few to not use the military to get into the business, and before his very fortunate murder, was aiding in the location and apprehension of Damien Moreau: Jamie Andrews." Eliot was shocked to observe Raelyn get the same amount of recognition and enthusiasm he did. He glanced between her and Vance and witnessed her smug smirk and nod as she walked in.

She leaned against the wall at the front of the room. "Thank you, Colonel Vance. As he said, this is Advanced Hand-to-Hand, so can anyone tell me the cardinal rule to hand-to-hand." There was no answer. "I thought this was an Advanced class," she spat at Vance. He cleared his throat in warning. "Be aware of your surroundings." She punctuated her statement with a rap of her knuckles against the wall. "What can be used as a weapon? Are there escape routes? Are other assailants approaching? You need to be aware of all of this at all times." She began to pace slowly. "This class will involve a lot of demonstration. I will talk you through the motions, and then you'll practice them on each other with the hands-on assistance from Mr. Spencer and occasionally myself. Most of the time, however, I can tell you what you're doing wrong on sight. Now since you kids aren't as advanced as you claim, we'll start a little slow." She took a defensive stance and gestured to Eliot. "Come at me, Mr. Spencer."

He went for her pelvis, and as expected, she took him down. She dropped down, slid underneath him between his legs, kicked her own up into his shoulders, sending him sprawling. She grunted as she got to her feet. "Now, in a frontal attack, one of the best tactics is to just get your assailant off their feet. As you saw, you don't have to stay on your own feet to do so. You can even disarm your assailant from underneath them." She started to pace again. "Now, as we continue, Mr. Spencer will attack me at random, in a variety of ways, and we'll go over some tactics to get the advantage. One thing to remember is persistence. It sounds campy, but-" Her head snapped backwards, cutting her off. She looked back to see Eliot with her braid wrapped twice around his fist. "See, this is what I was talking about. Be aware of your surroundings. If I had paid attention to my surroundings instead of you guys, he wouldn't have made it this far." She swung her arm back to disengage his fist from her hair, but he caught her with his free hand. "Now, all of you, like your assailants, have weakness. Exploit theirs as they will exploit yours."

"Why don't you just cut your hair?" A young male voice asked, flavored with a Latin-American accent.

Raelyn didn't look for the student but addressed his question. "Because then I couldn't do this." She stepped backwards toward Eliot, giving her hair some slack. With her free hand, she looped it around his neck and pulled it taut, but not enough to actually squeeze. Impressed murmurs trickled across the students. "Plus, I have amazing hair, and it would be an abomination to cut it. And kind of religious reasons, but that's not what we're talking about here. You can even use your perceived weaknesses to your advantage."

The classes went on. For Eliot, it was uncomfortable. Raelyn was especially cold and professional with him. He doubted any of the students thought they were connected beyond a rather stiff working relationship. He had to admit, her teaching methods were different from his, but combining her lectures, his hands-on tutoring, and their demonstrations was very effective. However, as time went on, tension started building, slowly at first, then more rapidly. He wanted to blame Vance, but he knew it was a team effort. Every time class ended, Vance would drop by and ask, "Hey, why don't the three of us go grab a bite to eat, get some drinks?"

Raelyn would always turn him down, rather politely, "No, I'm good, but thanks."

Occasionally, Vance would press, "You sure? I'm buying. Or do you have plans?"

And she would always give a curt, "Yes," before making a rapid exit. As time went on, she seemed to get more frustrated with the invitations.

Sometimes, seconds before Vance would drop by, Eliot would try to make some sort of contact, saying "Hey" and putting a hand on her shoulder or trying to help her with equipment.

She always shrugged him off or pushed his hand away and simply said "No." Each rejection held a little more heat than the last. It was the most emotion she showed him. Soon, she would either snap and leave or breakdown and face him. He had a little over two weeks to get a result.


	47. Chapter 47: Swelling

"So you've been working with him for almost a month, and you guys haven't talked?" Quinn asked as Raelyn moved about getting dressed.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it. And no, we haven't talked, I make sure."

"Okay, we won't talk about your nonsensical working relationship with your dad. Wanna talk about the fact that you haven't looked for any other work?"

"I'm probably going out tonight. I may not be home tonight. So you should probably go back to your place. Or find another place to stay. Or something."

"Don't you have work tomorrow too?"

She wrenched open the front door and turned to look at him. "Yeah, Dad, I do. But I thought I'd spend one fucking evening not dealing anyone asking about Eliot fucking Spencer."

Quinn stepped forward and slammed the door, yanking it out of her hand, leaving her still inside. "Raelyn, I am more than willing to have a conversation with you, but if you want to start a fight, I'll do that too. I don't think you want the latter, though."

She could feel herself get hot with frustration. "You need...to back...off," she said between deep breaths.

"Do I? Or do you need to accept the fact that this little 'He Means Nothing To Me' game is gonna fuck you up even worse?"

She shoved him. "Worse? Worse than what he did to me? You were the one that went behind his back to tell me the truth. You don't care about him."

He took her arm, trying to be especially calm. "I care about you. And I know that you need to let this get fixed. Because he's always been the most important person in your life. And that can't change."

She pulled out of his grip. "It already has." She whipped around and took hold of the door handle.

"Oh yeah? Then what's this?" He looped his finger into the silver chain around her neck and gave it a tug. With a light jingle, the dog tags popped out of her shirt.

He felt the tension crackle in the split second between his actions and hers. "Don't you fucking touch me!" Her voice was guttural. Her hand caught his throat, and her nails dug into his flesh.

He crammed his thumbs into the joints of her shoulders. She hissed. "You really wanna start this?" he warned.

She turned her hip and rammed it into him. "Don't talk like I can't take you."

He pushed further into her shoulders, pulling her up on her toes. "Yeah, but I know Eliot's style. Which means I know your style. Which means I can damn sure take you."

She pulled her legs up and thrust her feet into his shoulders, breaking his hold on her. They both tumbled to the ground in opposite directions. Apparently, her feet swiped his face on the way down because when he sat up, his lip was bloody. "I have to go to work to teach a self-defense class, and you dislocated my shoulder, you asshole!"

He scooted towards her. "Let me put it back."

She kicked him away. "I'll do it myself!" She pressed her shoulder into the doorframe and jammed it back into place. As she got to her feet, she told him, "I'm setting the house alarm. If you're not out of here in twenty minutes, the cops will be removing you."

"If you don't talk to you dad by the end of the class, in two weeks, you're not going to have anyone."

"Damn, you're in rough shape. Are you okay? Do we need to cancel classes for today?" Vance asked as he passed her in the hallway on the way to class.

Raelyn shrugged and try to move past him. "No, I'm fine."

He pressed his fingertips against her collarbone to stop her. "Sweetie, your shoulder's the size of a grapefruit. What happened?"

"It got dislocated. I put it back. It just needs some ice."

"Did you take a job this morning?"

"No."

"No? How did this happen?" When she didn't answer, he pressed, pulling her chin up. "Spencer, if you don't answer me, I'm putting you on ice."

"Rough sex," she coughed.

His eyebrows shot up. "Beg pardon?"

"It was just some really rough sex."

"Hmmm." He put his arm around her and walked with her to class. "Dinner tonight?"

"The three of us?" she inferred sourly.

"It can be the two of us."

"That's a first. Finally giving up on reconciliation?"

"Nope. I wanna shame you about lying to me, and I don't think I should do it in front of the person you hate most right now."

"Lying to you?"

"You and I both know you didn't get that dislocated shoulder during sex."

She flinched as he squeezed her closer. "So...am I on ice?"

"You are if you lie to me again."

She groaned. "I get rid of one dad, two more pop up. You guys are like a damn hydra."

"Two?" They'd reached the classroom, but he held her away from the door.

"Not talking about it." She pushed through the door, swatting his hand off.

"Geez, you're tight-lipped, even for a Spencer."

"Shut up."

"What happened to your shoulder?" Eliot asked.

"Nothing!" she snarled.

"Get her some ice. Class will start a little late. I wanna look at it before you start." Vance instructed.

She glared at him and flipped him off. "I said I'm fine."

"Thin ice, Sp-Andrews."

Eliot came back with the ice and pressed it to her shoulder. She jerked away and grabbed the ice from him. "I got it," she hissed.

She started pacing, and Vance pulled her into a chair. "Take a knee. You swing your arms too much when you do that."

"This isn't taking-"

"Quiet." He shifted the ice and examined her shoulder. "Alright, it looks okay. You did good putting it back."

"See?"

He thumped her forehead, and Eliot snorted. "I am technically your superior, sweetheart, and if you don't stow the attitude, I will treat you like the rest of my subordinates."

She visibly chewed her tongue. He cleared his throat. "Yes, Colonel."

"Leave the ice on a little longer then you can let the students in and start. I'll be close by." Vance marched out.

"Are-are you sure you're okay? I mean, should we skip demonstration today?" Eliot pressed cautiously.

"I. Am. Fine. We'll use it as a teaching moment. Fighting while injured. It's a common experience, and they're advanced. They should know."

"Good-good idea."

"I know!" she snapped.

She was very on edge. She may crack a little sooner than he expected.


	48. Chapter 48: Boiling Over

"Alright, guys, sorry we're late, but we got a great lesson for you today," Raelyn told their class. Eliot was trying to examine her. Her breathing was wrong. She looked incredibly tired. "Now, a painfully common thing you're going to have to deal with is fighting while injured. As you may have noticed, I am, in fact, recovering from a minor shoulder injury. In this situation, it's better to take the offense as best you , aim to keep your injured side from your opponent to start." She took a stance with her injured shoulder away from Eliot. He took an open stance opposite her. "Your opponent will likely feel like they have the advantage since you're injured. Use that confidence to your advantage."

She struck. Eliot grunted. She hit harder than usual. The look in her eye wasn't right. He pushed back. She hooked her foot behind his ankle and pulled his leg out from under him. As he went down, he kicked hard with his other leg, sending her down. She fell forward on top of him. She pressed her forearm to his neck. He grabbed her legs and rolled, so he was on top of her. She kneed him in the groin and rolled back. Students murmured as they noticed the change in dynamic. That was about the time Raelyn punched Eliot in the face. He took her arm and wrenched it away from him. The murmuring escalated to hollering. The scuffle ensued, and it became hard to tell where whose hands were.

A deep voice roared, "Class dismissed! All students exit the room in an orderly manner immediately!" Students fled the room as huge arms wrapped around Raelyn and hoisted her off Eliot. "Andrews, you are officially on ice." He planted her by the door. "Dammit, what is going on in here?"

"She snapped," Eliot answered, sitting up and wiping the blood from his nose.

"I was not asking you, Spencer," Vance said. He took Raelyn by the shoulders and looked down into her eyes. "What?"

"I'm done," she spat. She was shaking.

"You know what? No. You haven't even started. I'm done with pussyfooting around with you." He picked her up and placed her in front of Eliot. "You two are going to work this out. I'm tired of my two best hands being the biggest threats to each other."

"Hey!" Eliot was offended.

"Fuck you!" Raelyn screamed. She headed for the door. She slipped past Vance and out the door. Screaming was heard in the hallway. "What the hell are you doing here? Get your hands off me, you backstabbing son-of-a-bitch! Dammit!" The door opened, and her bottom half appeared first, next to the head of Quinn, who had her pinned on his shoulder.

He put her in the hands of Vance. "I believe you requested this, Colonel."

Vance quickly shook his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Quinn. Now, run like hell."

Quinn took off and slammed the door. "You mother-fucker!" Raelyn called after him. She tried to go after him, but Vance got in front of it. She pounded her fists on his chest. Vance just cleared his throat. She reached for his throat. He took her arm, turned her around, and pinned her arms across her chest. He squeezed as she struggled until she finally stilled.

"You done?"

"Yes, sir," she growled through clenched teeth.

"You are not leaving this room until you two work this out, young lady."

He released her hands and she stepped forward. Eliot knew better. He reached out and warned, "No, wait!"

But, of course, it was too late. Her elbow flew back into Vance's nose. He grabbed his nose and cursed. With the other hand, he grabbed her thigh and pulled her off her feet. She had just enough time to block her head from hitting the floor. He casually wiped the blood from his nose and set her down. She scrambled to her feet.

"What?! What do you want from me? You want me to apologize? To say sorry? I'm not!" Her voice started breaking.

Vance took her chin in his hand. "I am not asking you for an apology. I am asking you to listen to his."

He turned her around to face Eliot. Eliot caught himself staring at his feet. He slowly looked up at her. "I-I have nothing to say to her," he said. Even after this episode, Eliot had trouble handling this stuff in front of people.

"I will lay you out in front of your daughter," Vance warned. "Now-"

"There's nothing he can say to me! I will never forgive him! He's a vile, selfish traitor who deserves to burn in-"

"Hey!" Vance interjected.

"I was trying to protect you!" Eliot yelled back.

"Alright, fine, we'll do it this way," Vance murmured.

"I need protection from you!"

"I wanted a better life for you!"

"It's my life. It's not your decision. I chose this life. I bled for this life. And you had no right to take that away from me!" He opened his mouth, but she wasn't finished. "I mean, how could you do that to me? How could you do that to me? You didn't just tamper with my life, you tampered with my mind!"

"I...didn't wanna lose you."

"So you decided to change me? Because I wasn't good enough?" She was breathing heavily, hyperventilating.

"No, I...You...It's..."

"Did you want a son?"

"Oh shit," Vance sighed.

"Wh-what?" Eliot stuttered.

"Did you want. A. Son?"

The first thought that popped into Eliot's head was regrettably, "I didn't want a kid at all", but that wasn't going to help. "No," he answered quietly. "I wouldn't want this life for anyone. It's not about you being a girl, honey. I just-"

"No!" She looked away from him.

"What?"

"I don't think that's what she's asking Eliot," Vance said just above a whisper.

"Oh." She wasn't asking if he wanted a boy. She was asking if he wanted her. "Baby, I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world."

"Liar."

His breath hitched. He ran his fingers in his hair. "Dammit!" He slammed his fist against the wall. "I fucked up, okay?" She looked at him; she wasn't expecting it. "I fucked up in some of the worst ways a dad can fuck up. I left you with a mom who didn't care. I didn't show you there was a better life out there than mine. I let some asshole hit you. I let you believe that you weren't good enough. And then I tried to change you. I know there's nothing, absolutely nothing I can do to help you forgive me. I'm not even going to ask." His eyes watered so much he couldn't see, then the tears started falling.

She shook her head. "No. Don't start. If you start, then..." She hid her face in her arm.

"I've already nearly lost you so many times. I don't deserve it, but I'm asking you for one more chance to not screw this up. I wanna be a good dad."

He swiped his eyes with his forearm. When he looked up, she was inches from him. "You fucked up," she sobbed. "But you're not a bad dad." He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed.

He was so grateful that she hugged him back, squeezing too. There were several minutes where they both tried to keep talking, but coherent sentences wouldn't come out.


	49. Chapter 49: Tequila

Warning: This chapter contains sexual implications and shit.

Vance had left them alone once he was sure Raelyn wasn't going to hurt Eliot. He returned almost two hours later to find them sitting on the floor. She looked tired. He looked tired as well, but content too. They looked up when he came in.

"Hey," Raelyn said, her voice scratchy with exhaustion.

"Hey," he answered, "how's everything."

The two of them shrugged. "So I'm gonna head out," Raelyn said, easing herself to her feet.

"What? Where are you going?" Eliot asked.

"Five hours into my day, I'm exhausted in every way. I just need some time to myself. We'll hang out tomorrow...afternoon."

"Okay," Eliot answered slowly. He pulled her into another hug and said quietly into her ear, "I love you."

"You too." She walked out, and a few minutes later they heard grunting in the hallway. They ran out to see Quinn holding his face. Raelyn was gone. Vance pulled down his hands to see black eyes, a bloody nose, a busted lip, and several bruises.

"Wow," Eliot remarked, "how many hits was that?"

"Four." Quinn spoke surprisingly clearly.

"What'd you do? And why are you even here?" Eliot asked.

"He called me. I dislocated her shoulder."

Eliot furrowed his brow and looked at Vance. Vance answered as he led Quinn down the hallway. "It appears we ganged up on her. I wanted the extra pair of hands. It looks like she had some aggression left, and Quinn's the only one she could take it out on. Y'all gonna be okay, man?"

Quinn nodded. "She'll have a few drinks, get horny and call me."

"How did you know to call him?" Eliot asked, diverting the topic.

"I took her out to dinner and cloned her phone."

Eliot whistled. "Damn. How are you going to get away with that?"

"I'm her superior officer, and I'm bigger."

Quinn snorted caught the consequential blood in his hand. "I feel like you got the best end of deal here, Colonel."

"Nope, I did," Eliot said.

"Ow," Raelyn groaned. Her head felt like it had been run over. She eased herself to a sort of sitting position and cracked her eyes open. She saw that she was on a beige suede couch. She was at Quinn's place. She'd woken up worse places. "Quinn?" she croaked.

He shuffled in from the kitchen. "Mornin', Rae." He gestured to the Gatorade on the end table.

She grabbed it gratefully and gulped some down. "It's still morning?"

He checked his watch. "Barely. It's eleven."

She scoffed with disgust. "How did I end up here?"

"You drunk-dialed me around 3 am, and I came and picked you up."

"Tequila?"

"Tequila." He nodded. "27 shots, according to the bartender."

Her head fell into her hands. "Oh shit! Did I start a fight? Am I banned from another bar?"

"No, no." He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "You just had a lot of fun apparently. Do you remember yesterday?"

She sighed and shifted positions on the couch, sitting cross-legged. "Yeah. I know my dad and I dealt with stuff. Sorry about your face."

He brushed his fingers across his healing nose and winced. "We're all good."

"Are we? I mean-"

"We're fine, Rae. You were going through some shit, I pressed buttons, you creamed me for it."

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Did we hook up last night?"

He laughed. "No, you were still too hammered to walk."

She rubbed her face. "There's still that diner a few blocks from here, walking distance?"

"Yeah."

She scooted off the couch and started to stand up. "Alright, I'll buy you breakfast."

"Here, you're gonna want these." He tossed her a pair of aviator sunglasses.

"You're a fucking gem, Quinn."

"That I am."

A few hours later, they were laying on the hood of a Mustang. "So, I know I really shouldn't ask this, but um, how'd you end up forgiving your dad?"

She groaned and stretched. "I didn't."

Quinn folded his arms behind his head. "But you made up?"

"Yeah."

"How do you do that without forgiving him?"

"Well, he's never going to forgive me for dying, so I'd say we're even."

"So you're never going to forgive him?"

"Nope."

"So how do you deal with it?"

"I know that I would have done the same thing."

Quinn sat up abruptly and stared at her. "What do you mean?"

She stared intently at the sky. "If my dad lost his memory and I had the opportunity to alter his life, I would." He stuttered an attempt at a response. "Please don't."

"You two are toxic."

"I can't argue with you there. But you're all right. I can't cut my dad out of my life. Even though it may actually kill me one day. Or him. Or both."

He laid back down. "Makes sense. In a way...What if I haven't forgiven you for dying?"

She sat up and looked at him this time. "Have you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

She looked down at her feet. "I'm assuming me punching you in the face doesn't help with that."

He shook his head. "That's just business."

She brushed his hair behind his ear. "Quinn, seriously, I have enough tension with my dad. I don't want it with you."

He brushed her hand away. "Rae, you did what you had to do. I'm not going to fault you for that."

"Wow, you're as detached as I am. Maybe that's why we're friends."

He smirked. "Other than the amazing sex. But seriously, it's not like you specifically kept it from me. You hid from everyone. You isolated yourself for weeks. It couldn't have been easy for you."

She shook her head. "The lack of sex was really the only difficulty. I kind of liked not having to deal with the general populace."

He fiddled with her braid. "You're saying you didn't miss me?"

"I believe I implied the opposite."

"Have we ever done it on this car?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Not that I recall."

He fiddled with the waistband of her jeans. "We should fix that." She tossed her leg over him but he caught it and rolled on top of her. "How about, to start making it up to me, I get to be on top for a while?"


	50. Chapter 50: Vacations and Wheelchairs

Warning: This chapter deals with domestic violence.

Eliot and Raelyn decided to take a short vacation. Of course, they had to finish up Vance's combat class first. They ended up going to the lake, the one where Raelyn broke her arm. Though, he wasn't worried about that this time. Okay, he was a little worried. She did continue her adrenaline junkie ways, doing pretty extreme acrobatic tricks as she dove into the water, but she paid more attention this go around.

The sun started to set, and Raelyn climbed up on the boulder that Eliot was resting on, cracking open a hard lemonade and tapping it against the neck of his beer. "You know, one of these days, we should take a vacation that isn't preceded by some traumatic hoopla."

He snorted. "That is a great idea."

She scooted closer to him. "Dad, I need to talk to you about something."

He cleared his throat. "Okay."

She stared ahead into the horizon. "I don't think we should go on jobs together anymore."

He turned to her. "What? Why?"

"Half the time, one of us gets seriously hurt, and it fucks the other one up."

"Well..." He had no argument.

"We're so concerned about each other that we're not focusing, and..."

He nodded. "I get what you mean."

She nudged him. "You cool with that?"

"I don't know. I mean, I'm not going to sit here and demand that we still go on jobs together, but I think that we could still do okay in the future. We just have to figure out a good way to do it."

She sighed. "Okay. So...for now, we don't go on jobs together."

He nodded and took a swig of his beer. "Deal. Dibs on not being the one to tell Vance."

"Oh damn, right." She slapped her hand on her thigh in realization. "You know, I do feel like we got off easy for fucking up that one class."

He laughed and agreed. "Maybe we can still do that," he suggested. "I mean, there's not really any risk getting hurt there. And it'd make it easier on Vance."

She squinted at him. "I didn't think you were quite so content with that arrangement since technically you were working under me."

He shrugged. "Well, it's not like you'd even consider working under me."

She furrowed her brow. "I'd consider it. I wouldn't agree to it unless under great duress, but I'd consider that."

He clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Great duress, I can arrange that."

She smirked. "I'm sure you can." She took the last swig of her lemonade and examined the empty bottle. "There's a bar about a mile and a half from here." There was no question, but the suggestion was there.

He pushed himself off the rock to his feet. "Okay, let's go."

Raelyn wrapped up a quick grab-and-drop job, and the team had finished a job the day before, so Raelyn and Eliot were playing foosball in the basement rec room at the Leverage offices. They weren't actually keeping score, which was odd, but it kept things more lighthearted. After Eliot made a goal, Raelyn asked, "Why didn't we have one of these at home?"

"Like when you were in high school?"

"Yeah."

"The way we fought, it'd have been broken in a week."

"True."

"Eliot," a deep voice said from the stairs. Eliot and Raelyn looked up to see Hardison looking morose. Next to him was a dark-skinned young woman who looked a little younger than Raelyn. She was bruised and bleeding, and she looked afraid.

"Who's this?" Eliot asked, trying to keep it casual. He didn't want to scare the girl.

"This is my sister, Ariel. I need your help," Hardison answered. "The quiet kind."

Hardison's demeanor was throwing him off. "What's going on?"

"Dad, I think you know what's going on," Raelyn suggested. He looked at her and saw that she was staring at Ariel. The look in her eyes was not a look he saw often: empathy. He took a closer look at Ariel. Behind the fear was exhaustion...and betrayal.

"Boyfriend been knocking you around?" he asked her. She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded. "You want him in the hospital or the morgue, sweetheart?"

Her mouth opened; she was taken aback. Then her eyes twinkled with his favorite look to see on someone's face: hope. "Hospital. I don't think I could deal with his death on my hands."

"Good choice. You want him functioning or a vegetable?"

"Functioning. I wouldn't wish vegetable on anyone."

"You want him limping or in a wheelchair?"

"You don't want him in a wheelchair," Raelyn interjected. "People will take pity on him."

Eliot wanted to reprimand her for interrupting, but she had a good point. It was nice to have someone with her point of view as well. "Okay, so no wheelchair," Ariel answered. "But I don't want him to be able to do this to anyone else."

"Make him repellant. Deform him. He'd have to actually be a decent human being for women to approach him after that," Raelyn suggested.

Ariel nodded. "I like that. Do that."

Eliot squinted at Raelyn for a moment, then sighed. "Alright, will do. Hardison, is this going to be a team effort?"

He sniffed. "You better believe it."

"Alright, we'll get some equipment together, and-Is she coming along?"

"No," Ariel and Hardison answered in unison. Eliot sighed in what seemed to be relief.

"I'll stay with her," Raelyn said quietly. Eliot and Raelyn held eye contact. He was glad to see her able to use what happened to her for some semblance of good.

"Alright, good. I'll check in later. Clean her up; get her something to eat. Later, honey." He jogged up the stairs, shoving Hardison along.

Raelyn lead Ariel up to the kitchen and opened the fridge. "There's some leftover pizza that my dad made. It's pretty good," Raelyn suggested.

Ariel nodded with interest. "Yeah, Alec brings leftovers home all the time. His cooking's delicious."

"Awesome." Raelyn took the pizza from the fridge and stuck it in the oven. "Now we need a first aid kit." She dug through the cabinets and found a small kit and started on Ariel with a cool wash cloth. She took it well, wincing here and there without jerking away.

"You a foster kid too?" Ariel asked.

"No, why?" Raelyn responded, a little confused by the question.

"You don't look much like your dad."

Raelyn shrugged. "I took more after my mom, thankfully in looks only."

"You don't like your mom?" It wasn't accusatory, just curious.

"No."

"What about your dad? Do you like him?"

Raelyn smirked. "Sometimes."

A/N: **UPDATE** I hate that I'm doing this, but I really feel like I don't have any other choice. Due to, well, life, Raelyn is now on hiatus. Updates will continue as soon as December or no later than February. I apologize and hope readers will stick around.


	51. Chapter 51: Someone Who's Been There

Raelyn gave Ariel a chilled steak for her face once she treated the open wounds with antibiotics and a liquid sealant. "Would you feel comfortable pushing down the top of your dress so I can check for other damage? Judging by your shoulder, I think I should have a look."

"Yeah, of course." However, instead of just pushing the top of the dress down, she just whipped the entire thing off. She was wearing modest hip-hugger underwear and no bra.

Raelyn sucked in a breath and cleared her throat. "Damn," she said under her breath. Ariel had one hell of a body, and Raelyn had a taste for darker women.

Raelyn's phone went off and she checked it. It was a text from Eliot. "I forgot to tell you, DO NOT SEDUCE HARDISON'S SISTER."

Raelyn rolled her eyes. "It's like the bastard's watching," she growled to herself as she shoved her phone in her pocket.

It went off again. "Answer this so I know you got it or I'm coming back to put you in a chastity belt."

She scowled at it, and it started ringing. She stepped into an empty conference room and answered it. "What?!" she hissed.

"Raelyn! If you-"

"I know! I know!" she whispered.

"I'm serious."

"I know! But if she comes on to me, it's fair game."

"Why would she come on to you?"

"Seriously?"

"Raelyn, she is not in a good place, okay? You can not-"

"I know," she sighed. She hung up and slipped back into the kitchen.

"Is everything okay?" Ariel asked, still in her underwear.

Raelyn coughed. "Oh-oh yeah. My dad was just checking on us. We-we're okay...right?" Ariel nodded. "Great. So let's get a look at the rest of those injuries."

She grabbed a chair and scooted it behind Ariel's. "Yeah, there's some bruising underneath your shoulder blade and over your ribs. Your shoulder looks pretty swollen." She ran her fingers over the joint. "It's not dislocated or separated though. We should ice you down."

"Sounds good."

As Raelyn bound ice packs to Ariel's side, back and shoulder with ace bandages, Ariel asked her, "So...a guy's hit you before?"

"Yes," Raelyn answered matter-of-factly.

"What did you do?"

"I tried to kill myself."

"And then what happened?"

"I killed him."

"Oh."

"It took me a few years, but yeah."

"How did you do it?"

"I beat him to death."

"How did it feel?"

"Squishy. And hot." The oven dinged. Raelyn handed Ariel her dress before pulling the pizza out and plating. "Can I get you something to drink? Beer, tea, orange soda, water?"

"Orange soda."

"Shoulda known."

Raelyn sat with Ariel, and they ate quietly. Until Ariel asked, "What do you do when it's over?"

Raelyn exhaled. Talking about recovery wasn't her thing. But Ariel needed it. And Raelyn needed good to come from the blood on her hands, good she could see. "Find the girl you were before. Introduce her to the woman you are now. Combine them and make a force to be reckoned with."

"How do you do that?" Ariel's calm demeanor contrasted so much to Hardison. In fact, she reminded Raelyn of Parker. Except Parker would toss anyone who touched her off a building. But that was neither here nor there.

"There's no real formula. Other than don't get into a new relationship. I'd give yourself a year off. You spend a lot of time alone." Ariel nodded. She seemed to be far away, in thought.

The front door opened. Instinctively, Ariel ducked into another room like a frightened deer. Raelyn stood up and pulled a knife from the counter. Eliot and Hardison appeared in the foyer. Raelyn smacked the knife down. "Ariel, all clear." Ariel slipped back into the kitchen.

Eliot gave Raelyn a nod of respect. "We just dropped his unconscious ass off at an ER. Hardison wanted to take her to pick up her stuff. Then we gotta figure out where she's staying. How're you holding up, sweetheart?"

"Better than expected," Ariel answered.

"Take her to Seven Days. It's safe, it's far, it's secluded."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Eliot mused.

"Of course not," Raelyn said with a touch of pride.

"What do you think?" Eliot asked Hardison.

"Well, Parker has a ton of escape apartments around Portland, but I do think getting out of the city would be good for you. Do you want me to go with you?" Ariel nodded. "Alright, lemme call Parker. She'll probably take that trip to scale the Taj Mahal that I refuse to do due to valuing my life."

Hardison left the room and made the phone call. When he came back in, he said, "Alright, let's go get your stuff from that asshole's place and get you on vacation."

"I already texted you the coordinates," Eliot told him.

"And I gave her my number," Raelyn added.

"Great. Thank you guys so much."

Hardison took Ariel, and they went on their way. Ariel mouthed "Thank you" to Raelyn as they went out the door.

The door closed, and Raelyn nearly ran out the backdoor. Eliot followed her. She lit up a cigarette and sucked on it like an inhaler. "Hey Rae, you okay?"

She nodded, shaking. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine." She took a breath. "I just don't like remembering...anything about David."

"I'm sorry, honey." He reached for her shoulder, but she jerked away.

"Please, don't touch me right now."

He folded his arms over his chest. "O-okay. What do you wanna do?"

She took another long drag off a cigarette. "I wanna go to a bar, buy a bottle of Patron, and pick up a lesbian, maybe two."


	52. Chapter 52: Engage

Eliot, Parker, and Hardison got to work sorting through files for their next client. "Oh, Eliot, I should tell you," Hardison began nonchalantly, "you're going to need to plan bachelor party one of these days, if you're going to be my best man."

Eliot squinted at him. His eyes widened as the information processed. He looked over at Parker's left hand to see a diamond big enough to take down a plane. His head snapped back over to Hardison. "You didn't?!"

Hardison brought up a fist in triumph. "I did, man."

Eliot turned to Parker. "And you said yes!" Parker nodded, giggling with glee. He pulled them both into a tight hug. "Oh, man, congratulations. Do Nate and Sophie know?"

"We're telling them at dinner on Sunday," Parker answered.

"You are going to be my best man, right?" Hardison asked.

"Yes. Hell yes, man!" Eliot assured him. "What are we doing working? We should be celebrating!"

"Actually, we're really behind, and I at least want to get some consultation meetings scheduled first," Parker directed.

"Dude, I think your fiance's a workaholic," Eliot teased.

Hardison smirked. "Yeah. It's cute, isn't it?"

An alarm started buzzing, and Hardison switched on a few monitors. Live surveillance footage appeared. Growls of discontent rolled through the room as the facial recognition software pointed out the presence of Jim Sterling at the front door of the pub. Dropped files cascaded across the table as all three of them took off downstairs. Hardison pulled out his phone as they moved. He pressed a button on his speed dial. "Clear the floor."

They reached the pub, seeing patrons quietly fleeing through the front door past a distracted Sterling. Eliot took hold of Sterling by the throat and laid him out on the bar, hard. "The hell are you doing here, Sterling?" Eliot growled.

"I'm here to help," he choked.

"Aren't you always?" Hardison drolled.

"Cut the vague disclaimers and answer the damn question!" Eliot bellowed.

"I came to warn you," Sterling gasped. "There's a hit on Parker."

Eliot let him sit up but kept the grip on his throat. "That's nothing new. Parker's been wanted since she was like twelve."

"Not wanted. Not bounty. Hit. And it's getting a lot of attention. Lots of bites," Sterling corrected. "Parker is in danger. Dozens of notorious hitters, almost as good as Eliot, are headed to Portland."

"Almost," Eliot muttered.

"Why is the hit getting so much attention?" Hardison asked.

"Could be the fame of nicking the most famous thief in the 21st century. Could be the $500,000,000."

Their eyebrows all skyrocketed. "500 mil? For me?" Parker questioned, sounding way too proud.

"Focus, Parker," Eliot warned.

She sighed, coming back to the point. "Why are you telling us this? Wouldn't this be good news for you?"

"Why would I want you killed before I could take credit for your arrest?" Sterling said with a smile. It disappeared when Eliot slammed him back onto the bar. Sterling sputtered, "You'd kill me if something happened to her, and you found out I knew about it!"

"I might just kill you anyway," Eliot told him.

Parker started pacing, staring at the ceiling like the solution was written on it. "Do you have names?" she asked Sterling.

"I can get them."

"When you do, get them to Eliot. Eliot, you take their styles and figure out the best way to...remove them." Eliot's eyes narrowed as he comprehended her implications."Sterling, what about who put out the hit?"

"That'll take some time, if I can even find out."

"Well, your life depends on it," Eliot said with a twisted smile.

Sterling looked at him in mild surprise and irritation. "I give you a heads up and you still want to kill me?"

"He doesn't need much of a reason anymore," Hardison explained. "He really doesn't like you."

"None of us do," Parker added. "Get out, and get those names, quickly."

It was Sunday night, and as was becoming tradition, Eliot, Raelyn, Hardison, Parker, Sophie, and Nate all met for dinner. This week, they were meeting at headquarters. Eliot had Raelyn help him make dinner, steak with twice-baked potatoes and buttery grilled asparagus. Dinner was pleasant. Raelyn found it odd when everyone stuck around when she and Eliot started on the dishes. They usually milled about elsewhere, deciding on some sort of after dinner activity like a movie or a tournament in the basement rec room.

"So I need to ask you something," Eliot said, failing to sound casual.

Raelyn put down the pan she was cleaning and turned to him. "Okay, that doesn't sound good."

"We need your help on a job."

She shook her head. "Dad, we talked about this. We can't work together."

"It's important," he pressed.

"That's not the point, Dad."

"Some people are after Parker," Hardison stepped in, "and we want to take care of it before it becomes a real problem."

She turned to Hardison and stared at him. She sighed, a sense of defeat evident. "He's not asking me, you are."

Hardison gave a nod. "Parker suggested it. I agree. You're someone we can trust, and you're skilled."

"And I owe you," Raelyn added.

"What are you talking about?" Eliot asked.

"Don't ask, you don't want to know," Raelyn dismissed.

"Hardison?" Eliot changed tactics.

Hardison waved his hand limply and shook his head. "No, thank you, I value my limbs."

Eliot pestered, "What does-"

"Eliot, leave it," Nate sighed.

"Are you in?" Hardison asked.

Raelyn leaned against the counter. "I need details. What's the plan?"

Parker got to her feet and paced slowly. "Well, according to Eliot's intel, the top dogs are complete scumbags who like attention. Since Hardison and I are engaged, we thought it would be both fun and effective to stage our wedding."

Raelyn whipped around to face Eliot and pointed an adamant finger at his nose. "Oh, no. No. You know that I can't-"

He took hold of her wrists. "Raelyn, calm down. It isn't even a real wedding. Just a con, a job."

She growled and took a shaky breath. She turned back towards Parker. "Alright, continue."

"We'll make it big enough to get attention, but small enough to keep a crew maintained. There's a chapel we can use; I'm familiar with it, and it works great with harnesses." Raelyn's lips twitched in disgust. "You guys will be part of the wedding party, functioning like decorative body guards."

"Wedding party," Raelyn spat through her teeth. "Look, I wanna help, but-"

Parker cut her off. "I'm putting you in black," she said with a tempting smirk.

Raelyn tilted her head and narrowed her eyes in thought. "Alright, I can deal with that. But if I'm doing this, I need to bring Quinn in."

Eliot cleared his throat. "Raelyn, I don't think-"

"No, I like it," Parker mused.

Hardison nodded. "Yeah, if these guys are as cut throat as you say, the extra help would be handy."

Sophie jumped in, "Should I call Tara, so we keep the numbers even? "  
Parker nodded towards her. "Yes."

"You're going to have to take the maid of honor position to stay close to her," Eliot elaborated.

Raelyn shook her head in defeat. "You are damn lucky I owe you, Hardison."

He broke into a grin. "I know."


	53. Chapter 53: Associate

"So...you have a friend in INTERPOL?" Raelyn asked as she sharpened a fighting knife while sitting atop his coffee table.

"He's not a friend," Eliot corrected. "He's...an associate." He knew he had to be careful with his words regarding Sterling. If she knew Eliot hated him, she could kill him...or worse, sleep with him.

"That's sounds hinky," she said, sensing his unease.

He started pacing. "Just try to reign it in, alright? He's about as snarky as you are, and with how reckless you are, he could get you thrown in prison. He'd probably enjoy it, too. Almost as much as-Nevermind. Weapons away."

She looked up at him with a furrowed brow. "And we're working with this guy?"

"It's better than working against him," he muttered. He stood in front of her. "This is really important."

She was back at examining the knife she had been sharpening. "I know, Dad. Parker will be fine."

"No, not that. Raelyn, look at me." He took the knife from her to force her to obey. "This man cannot find out who you are." He took her chin and squeezed it to show her how serious he was. "Cannot. You need to focus. No slip ups. Period. Top priority. Okay? I will take you off this job if I think there's any danger of him finding out. Do you understand me?

"Yeah."

"Raelyn."

"Yes, sir."

He kissed her forehead and finally let go of her chin. "Now gimme your belt."

"But-"

He gave her a look, silently telling her this wasn't a discussion. She removed the thick, wide belt that she often wore from beneath the waistband of her pants; it held about a dozen knives. "Stand up, spread your legs, put your hands behind your head."

"Dad!"

"Now."

With a growl, she followed orders. He patted her down and started removing weapons from her person. Four different from her pant legs. He dug a Swiss Army Knife from her pocket. "Come on! That's barely a-"

"Quiet," he ordered as he continued. He pulled another knife from her waistband. And a pistol. She grimaced. He glared at it restraining the need to yell. He looked her in the eye. "If you bring this into my house ever again, I will use it on you. Am I clear?"

She nodded. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly. "Yes, sir," she said through her teeth.

He patted over her back and pulled a small blade from the back of her bra. He looked at her chest and then back up at her face. "Do you want me to do this part or do you want to handle it?"

She relaxed her arms momentarily and started to stick her hand inside the front of her shirt. He took hold of her wrist. "Can I trust you?"

"No!" she snapped. He squeezed her wrist in warning. "Dad, seriously. I'm reaching in to pull out the blade I have tucked in here when I could have just told you I didn't have anything and waited for you to find out."

He let go of her. "Fine." She produced the final hidden blade, and he took it from her. "You'll get these back when the job starts." She sighed, watching him stow her armory in the hidden compartment in the coffee table.

There was a knock at the front door. He pointed a serious finger at her. "Best behavior." He left her behind in the living room and went to answer the door. He walked slowly, trying to figure out how he was going to play this.

"Sterling...I was really hoping you wouldn't show."

Sterling nodded. "I was hoping you wouldn't answer the door. So who is this associate of yours? Old army buddy?"

"Nope." Sterling stepped forward, but Eliot didn't move. "This is your warning, Sterling: Do not cross her; I may not be able to kill you since I'm reformed. She has no such qualms."

Sterling raised an eyebrow. "She? Mikel?"

Eliot sputtered. "Like she'd ever agree to this." He finally stepped aside and granted Sterling access.

"Okay, this is...Jamie, where'd you go?" When they got to the living room, it was empty.

"Jamie," Sterling repeated quietly like he was mulling something over.

"Kitchen," Raelyn called, and the tell-tale sound of a beer being opened was heard.

"She's comfortable," Sterling commented.

They continued into the kitchen. "This is Jamie Andrews. Jamie, this is-"

"You!" Raelyn slammed her beer down on the counter, surprisingly without breaking it. The next thing Eliot knew, Raelyn had her braid wrapped around Sterling's neck. Her hand shook as she pulled it tighter.

Far too amused at the sight, Eliot quipped, "I see you've met."

"This son-of-a-bitch has fucked up six different jobs for me. Almost gotten my best covers blown, almost gotten me thrown in prison!"

"It's my job!" Sterling joked. "You've killed-"

She leaned down close to his ear. "That's _my_ job."

She straightened and pulled harder. Sterling flailed and got hold of a large kitchen knife. He brought it towards the braid, but Eliot grabbed his wrist. "Jimmy, I'm going to gift you with a warning: if you slice a single hair, she's going to kill you, and I'm going to have to let her."

Hand shaking, Sterling dropped the knife like it injured him. Eliot stood there with a smug look on his face...until Sterling started changing colors. "Alright, Andrews, that's enough." Raelyn exhaled sharply and didn't change position. "Jamie," Eliot warned, raising his voice. When she still didn't relent, he stepped behind her and took hold of the back of her waistband. He put his head next to hers and growled just loud enough for her to hear, "I said...that's enough."

She let go, and Sterling crumpled to the floor, wheezing. "Sterling, make yourself comfortable," Eliot said quickly as he yanked Raelyn into the living room.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded. She said nothing, just glared at him, her arms crossed and her mouth puckered in defiance. "Can you do this job?" he demanded.

"He can hear you," she said, barely audible.

"Yes. Or. No."

She glanced down at her feet. "Yeah."

"You're sure?" She nodded. He got barely inches from her face. "Then you will never ignore orders like that again. Am I clear?"

"Yes."


	54. Chapter 54: Dresses and Triangles

"She's getting married in a chapel?" Raelyn questioned, failing to hide her disapproval as they stood on the front steps.

"Logistically easier to cage in snipers," Eliot answered. "And it's not like it's her real wedding."

Raelyn looked over the dark wood doors. "Where would she have her real wedding?"

"The top of the Louvre," two voices answered behind them. They turned to see Parker and Hardison.

"Over-looking the pyramid," Parker added.

"That's cute," came a condescending tone. Quinn appeared behind them.

Parker and Hardison smirked towards each other, then he stepped forward and pulled open one of the heavy doors. The five of them filed in, Raelyn dragging her feet to slip in last. Nate, Sophie, Tara, and Sterling were all at the front of the chapel, pacing among the decorations. Hardison and Parker moved forward to join them.

Raelyn's fingers twitched. "That's a lot of flowers. And white," she said quietly between her teeth. The room was covered in white satin draping and white rhododendron.

Eliot leaned over to her, unable to hide his mocking grin. "Waiting to burst into flames?"

"Lil bit," she coughed.

Quinn turned to her with a curiously furrowed brow. "I thought your religion was tied up in the whole Cherokee thing."

"The Cherokee believe in a Maker. There's nothing to say it isn't the same God the Catholics or Protestants worship. I, personally, think it is."

"Not a lot of confidence in your track record, huh?"

"Yeah, that's not the only issue," she said, her jaw clenched. Her face puckered in disgust and she started glancing around like she was looking for snipers already.

Quinn reached over and tugged on her braid, mimicking her nervous habit. She looked at him. "Hey, it's not like a white dress is going to jump out and drag you down the aisle."

"Thank you, I so needed that visual, you asshole," she spat.

The three of them made their way to the front to join the others, Raelyn still dragging her feet. "Tara, you brought the dresses, right?" Parker asked. She kept tugging at her collar, uncharacteristically nervous. Tara nodded and pointed to the garment bags laid across the . "Well, I guess it's time to start getting ready."

Raelyn groaned as she followed Tara and Sophie. "Come on, I think you'll like them." Raelyn rolled her eyes.

"Alright, Parker, I owe you an apology. I may not even cut this dress up," Raelyn gushed as she stepped back into the chapel.

"Seriously?" Eliot grumbled. The dress was, of course, black. The hemline barely came to the top of the thighs. The sleeves were black ruched tule, and the neckline cut straight across, revealing the collar bone.

"Isn't it hot?" Tara agreed, coming out in identical dress. The only difference was that Raelyn had a jeweled belt that was supposed to identify her as the Maid of Honor.

Nate looked incredibly concerned. "And Sophie is?"

"Still getting dressed," Raelyn and Tara answered with no small amount of irritation.

Nate pressed hopefully, "And she's not..."

"No," Tara answered, making Nate sigh in relief. "As a married woman, Sophie gets a different dress. At least that's the excuse we're going with. It seems the hardest part of this wedding was Sophie and Parker fighting over dresses."

Parker crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "Couldn't even get her to agree to black."

"Green's a good second, though," Sophie interjected as she reentered the chapel. Her dress was similar but definitely more appropriate for a traditional wedding. It was sage green and knee-length. The sleeves were sheer but loose and not ruched. The neckline had a very shallow V that let the collarbone barely peek through.

"It is," Nate agreed taking Sophie's hand. "Shouldn't you finished getting dressed?" he asked Parker. Her shimmery makeup had been done and hair curled, but she was still in jeans and a grey hoodie that looked like it was probably Hardison's.

"I can't get into the dress by myself," Parker answered, looking unamused.

"Oh, right," Sophie said as if she'd just remembered. "Tara, would you mind helping us? And Jamie...um?"

Raelyn rolled her eyes and waved the three girls off. "Yeah, don't even pretend I'm going to be remotely helpful there."

Sophie nodded gratefully and pulled Parker away but not before Hardison stole an affectionate hug. He said it quietly, but everyone heard him tell her, "The real one is going to be so much more amazing." Tara snickered as she followed behind.

"Speaking of not dressed, why do you two look like the wedding's over?" Eliot had his bow tie and boutonniere in his hand. Quinn's shirt was misbuttoned and untucked. Jackets were undone, belts had missed loops, and collars were caddywompus. Quinn and Eliot looked at each other guiltily. Hardison and Nate looked at each other knowingly. No one said anything for a while. With growing irritation, Raelyn snapped, "What?!"

Hardison adjusted his sharp diamond cufflinks. "Well...it sounded like...a couple of gentlemen...were fighting...about a woman...after somebody...mentioned sex...with said woman."

Her nostrils flared as she exhaled sharply. "You two are so damn childish!" She stomped over to Eliot and began putting him together. Eliot started to stutter out some defense, but she told him, "I don't want to hear it!" as she adjusted his collar. Quinn stepped forward to say his own piece, but she pushed him back. "I will deal with you in a minute!"

Sterling sent a questioning look to Nate. "Love triangle?"

And with that, Nate busted out laughing, and Hardison followed suit. Raelyn moved on to fix Quinn. Eliot then noticed where Sterling's line of sight was focused: Raelyn's backside. "Hey! Quit starin' at her! She's not a piece of meat!"

Nate and Hardison's took a brief intermission to see how deadly this would turn. Sterling glanced at them. "So that's a 'yes' on the love triangle?"

Eliot had leaned forward just an inch, probably to strangle Sterling, when Raelyn stepped on his foot. "Reign it in, Spencer," she said deliberately. And the laughter started up again, Quinn joining in.


	55. Chapter 55: The Wedding Job

"Everybody's coms are in?" Parker asked. There were six affirmations. "And Eliot is not within arms reach of Sterling?"

"Unfortunately," Eliot said.

"And Eliot is not currently strangling Quinn?" Parker checked.

"My wind pipes are clear," Quinn beamed.

"Sterling, what do we have?" Parker asked.

"If snipers were cockroaches, this place would be infested," Sterling quipped.

"Eliot, Jamie, Tara, Quinn, how are we with detonators?"

"Set," four voices answered.

"I kinda feel bad about destroying a church," Parker mused.

"The building's pretty much condemned. We're kind of doing a public service," Hardison assured her.

"That's nice of us," Parker said, feeling comforted.

"Wait a minute, you have me perched on the rafters of a condemned building?!" Sterling spat incredulously.

"We climbed through this thing to set detonators. Shut up, you big baby," Raelyn dismissed.

"Alright, places everyone," Sophie directed with a touch of exasperation.

Sophie's acting students milled in, posing as wedding attendees. Mixed in were obvious hitters. The minister appeared next. Noises of recognition came from Sterling, Sophie, Nate, Eliot, and Hardison. "Parker...is that your dad?"

"Yeah. Glad you made it, Dad," Parker said.

"Did you honestly think I'd miss my daughter's wedding? Especially with this many hired guns invited?" Archie questioned.

"You knew about this?" Hardison asked.

"I told you I had the minister covered," Parker defended.

"Hardison, go," Sophie pressed.

Hardison took his place near Archie, who smiled at him. Eliot and Raelyn entered from opposite sides of the room, marching in sync towards the aisle. They were followed by Nate and Sophie then Quinn and Tara. Then Parker appeared at the end of the aisle. There were gasps from everyone. She was in a puffy, white, princessy, very unlike Parker dress. But she was smiling.

"I love that woman," Hardison said to himself, but everyone heard it on the coms.

"I love you too," Parker whispered. She made it to the other end of the aisle and couldn't help hugging Archie.

He squeezed her. "I almost forgot this was a setup," he breathed, barely audible.

They started the standard vows, vows Parker and Hardison would never really make. "Weapons are being aimed," Sterling warned quietly.

"Everybody hold formation a little longer," Eliot instructed quietly.

"Sterling, make your way to your exit," Nate requested.

They began exchanging the rings, and there was an all-too-familiar metallic click. "Now!" Repelling lines came rolling out of the drapery. Raelyn took the back of Parker's dress and tore away the facade, revealing a white cat suit underneath a harness. As the puffy dress pooled around her legs, bullets went through it.

"Parker!" Hardison cried as Raelyn stepped between Parker and the pews. She clipped the line to Parker, and Parker flew into the air. The first volley of detonators went off, shaking the rafters. The false wedding attendees, safe in their Kevlar, fled tactically. Hardison tore of his jacket, revealing his own harness. Eliot clipped a repelling cord to him, and he soared upwards. Sophie and Tara clipped their own cords to their harnesses, discreetly under their dresses. Nate clipped his cord to the harness underneath his jacket. The three of them disappeared to safety. Quinn clipped his cord to his harness as a bullet ricocheted off a statue next to Raelyn's head. She flinched, and she and Eliot made concerned eye contact. They nodded. She glanced at Quinn and tilted her chin up, silently telling him to make his escape.

The heavy blades of a helicopter were heard outside. The bullets increased in frequency. Raelyn pulled her harness up as it was hidden in the fold of her belt. She clipped the cord on and looked towards Eliot. He waited until he saw her secure start securing his own rig. She reached up to yank the cord and propel herself up, and a bullet shot through her wrist.

"FUCK!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, losing her grip.

Eliot was already halfway up. When he assessed that it wasn't a deadly shot, he called back, "You're in church! Watch your mouth!"

"FUCK YOU!" was her witty retort.

"HEY!"

"SHUT UP!"

"GET YOUR ASS UP HERE!"

She yanked the cord with her uninjured hand and repelled upwards. A second volley of detonators. The first had opened a hole in the roof above which was large military chopper commanded by Vance. Quinn was making his way in and pulling a lot of the rigging through the ceiling into the helicopter. As Raelyn pulled herself through the hole in the roof, struggling one-handed, Eliot pulled her into a bear-hug-type hold and hauled her in reach of Vance who pulled her in by her uninjured arm and her waist. Raelyn immediately turned around and took a fistful of the front of Eliot's shirt and started pulling him in with Vance's help. Once Eliot got his footing, Vance directed the helicopter to go. That is when the church imploded from the final volley of detonators.

Raelyn started taking a headcount. "No one else is hurt?"

"No, you're the only dumbass that got yourself shot!" Eliot snapped.

"THIS IS WHY I HATE WORKING WITH YOU!" she roared back. She stumbled, and at first she thought it was just the movement of the helicopter. But the shifting feeling didn't stop when she took a seat. "Something's wrong," she observed.

"Well, yeah, there's a hole in your arm," Eliot quipped as he was working on untangling the rigging, not looking at her.

She yanked at his shirt. "No, there's something wrong!" she insisted. He looked back at her, and she bared her arm, having ripped the sleeve from the dress. His eyes widened with concern. The wound was was incredibly swollen, and most of her forearm was disgustingly discolored. The wound was fresh, but the flesh looked like it was bruised days before. Eliot glanced at Sterling, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

"I gotta do somethin' weird, alright?" he warned. She nodded. He took her arm and flicked his tongue in the seeping blood of the wound.

Hardison screamed and flailed in disgust. "What the hell?!"

After squishing the blood around in his mouth, Eliot spat it out. "Cherokee bullet," he commented.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Raelyn asked, trying to ignore a dizzy spell.

"It's not the most accurate term, but a lot of native tribes put poison on their arrows so that when the fired, it didn't matter where the arrow struck, as long as it did. It's recently become a practice with gun-toting hitters so that the shot doesn't have to be fatal...to be deadly." Eliot made eye contact with Raelyn just long enough to watch her steel herself against the implications of his words.

"I'm poisoned," she said, nausea tainting her voice.


	56. Chapter 56: Cherokee Bullet

Looks of concern were exchanged all throughout the helicopter. "People have been poisoned before; surely there's a way to get past it."

"Depends on the poison," Vance said.

"And I can't recognize this one," Eliot said, trying to ignore the panic pounding it his head.

"Vomit bag," Raelyn pleaded.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"VOMIT BAG!" Vance snatched one up and handed it to her, just in time for her to hurl into it. "Ugh," she wretched, "that's worse than tequila."

When the spray-factor no longer seemed to be an issue, Quinn took her arm and dipped his finger in the blood. "Do you mind?" he asked, looking at both Eliot and Raelyn. They gave him the go ahead and he licked his finger. Hardison screamed again. "Tart...Derivative of Datura," he observed. Eliot shook his head, not understanding. "It's a hallucinogenic flower. It can be used as a painkiller, but in higher doses it's toxically fatal. It can cause a range of symptoms before it finally kills you. It isn't common, but it's gaining popularity."

Eliot could see Raelyn struggling to stay conscious. "Is there...a kit in here?" she slurred.

Eliot looked towards Vance who nodded. "Yeah, why? What are you thinking?"

"System...flusher." She vomited into the bag again.

Eliot looked at Quinn. "Could it work?"

"If it's treated fast enough. But enough of the poison is in her system, she won't get away scot-free."

"Good enough to try," Vance said, snatching a case out from under the pilot's seat. He and Eliot fumbled through the syringes until the one with clear liquid was located. Quickly but carefully, Eliot slid the needle into the crook of Raelyn's limp arm.

As he pulled the needle out, she tumbled to the floor. Quinn reached out, but he wasn't quick enough to catch her. He lifted her back onto the seat and supported her head. Eliot put his arms around her and brought her face to his. "Hey, stay with me." Her eyes fluttered. "Stay with me, you little shit. You're not going out like this."

Vance dug a stethoscope out from the kit and listened for her heartbeat. "Hard and erratic."

"Let me listen," Quinn directed, taking the ear pieces. He felt her forehead and neck as he listened. "She has a fever. Her body's fighting it. I'd say she has a 50/50 shot."

Vance activated an ice pack and curled it on the back of her neck. Her eyes snapped open. "You!" she growled. "I killed you!" She clawed her hands up Eliot's chest and wrapped her hands around his neck, slowly starting to squeeze.

"What the hell," Elit said, starting to pull her away from him.

"It's hallucinogenic," Quinn reiterated. Vance grabbed Eliot, and Quinn grabbed Raelyn, and they pried them apart. She fought, flailed, and fumed until her knees buckled, and she started seizing. "Dammit, is there anything this shit doesn't cause?" Eliot fumed as Quinn tried to gently lay her down.

"Pregnancy, stroke, STDs, watery ey-"

"SHUT UP!" Eliot snapped. He knelt down next to her. He brushed her hair away from her twitching face. "I need you to hang on, honey," he said quietly as she started to become lucid.

"She's your daughter," Sterling said with dumbstruck realization.

Panic hit Eliot like a meteor. In her brief moment of lucidity, Raelyn grabbed a hold of Quinn's pant leg and slurred, "I'll give you seven times your premium fee to kill him."

Quinn shrugged and started reaching towards Sterling. "QUINN!" Eliot roared. "White. Hat," he growled. Quinn rolled his eyes and turned his focus back to Raelyn.

"She's supposed to be dead," Sterling said, still in shock.

And that's when Eliot snapped. He dove forward and yanked Sterling up by his shirt. "YOU KNEW?!"

"I didn't know anything until Moreau's death," Sterling gasped. "By the time I looked into it, I got her death certificate. Something about Jamie was always familiar. At first, I thought you were just sleeping together. But the way you looked at her. And the way she looked at me."

Eliot shook him. "What do you mean the way she looked at you?!"

"The look you have on your face right now, the one where you look like you're trying to kill someone with your eyes. She has the same one."

"Told you," Tara piped up.

"SHUT UP!" Eliot yelled at her. He crammed Sterling against the wall of the helicopter. "You don't breathe a word to anyone. If anything happens to her, and I even think you had anything to do with it, they won't even find your fingernails."

"That's a new one," Sterling breathed. Eliot raised an eyebrow in warning. "You have my word," Sterling promised.

As Eliot set Sterling back on his feet, Vance pulled him aside. "Hey, we're going to drop everybody else off at Leverage Headquarters, and I sent a van to get you two home."

"Home?" Eliot questioned. "She needs to go to the emergency center."

Vance put supportive hands on Eliot's shoulders. "She's unstable and hallucinating. The emergency center is going to set her off." He paused. "Eliot, there is a good chance Raelyn isn't going to make it. She won't want to go out there. She needs some place comfortable."

Eliot's eyes burned. "She begged me not to do this job. She didn't want to work together anymore because this kept happening. I might as well-"

"Stop." The source of the command was surprising: Hardison. He took hold of Eliot. "She's going to be fine. And if, IF she doesn't make it, you know this is exactly how she'd want to go out: taking the shot to protect someone. If she were lucid right now, listening to you throw your little pity party, she'd punch you in the face." That got a grin. "Ah, made you smile."

Attention was redirected when Raelyn seized briefly before hurling again. Quinn and Vance had her taken care of, while Eliot felt increasingly useless. He sat down next to her half-conscious form and pulled her upper half into his lap, brushing his fingers through her hair. She was sweating profusely, and her breathing was uneven. She clutched weakly at his arm. Her wound oozed on him, but he didn't even acknowledge it. In his mind, all he saw were trinkets floating down a river and sooty dog tags in a pile of rubble.

The helicopter landed on the roof of Leverage Headquarters. Tara was the first one off followed by Sterling. Nate, Sophie, Parker, and Hardison looked at him expectantly. "Go," he said. "I just...She could hurt somebody like this."

Everyone looked at Quinn. "I'm staying with her," Quinn stated. Eliot opened his mouth to argue. "That wasn't a request!" Quinn said sharply. The other five glanced at each other.

"Guys, please go," Eliot asked. "You can come by when we know something."

So Nate, Sophie, Hardison, and Parker filed out of the helicopter. As it went back in the air, Vance told Eliot, "I got some minor equipment on its way to your place. Mainly some makeshift blood monitor equipment to see if her body is fighting it off."

Eliot nodded mutely and pulled her closer to him.


	57. Chapter 57: Datura

Eliot carried Raelyn's weak and heavy body into his living room, and Quinn and Vance followed close behind. She groaned in pain as he laid her on the couch. Quinn, as if he noticed something they didn't, hurriedly swiped a bucket from the kitchen and put it next to her right as she rolled over and puked. With nothing left in her stomach, the vomit consisted of a pale green foam.

"She has no chance of fighting it if there's nothing in her system," Eliot said.

"She's not going to keep anything down," Quinn argued.

"I'm getting some IVs and some rudimentary blood test equipment sent over," Vance informed them. "We'll test her blood toxicity every hour just to see if the flusher is even working."

Quinn requested, "Can you save me some samples from the toxicity tests?" Eliot glared at him with disgust. "Not much is known about the Datura poison. If I can get samples of blood contaminated with it, we can study it. If the system flusher works, we can stop people from dying. This stuff-"

"I get it. Fine," Eliot snapped.

Vance pursed his lips as he glanced between Eliot and Quinn. "I got some calls to make. No one die or kill each other while I'm gone." Eliot and Quinn glared at each other.

Two hours of blood tests (and a couple more small seizures) proved that the system flusher was helping. Hope flooded the room. Her fever spiked as she fought it. Apparently, the Datura fought back as the seizures and hallucinations got more violent.

One particular trip stuck in Eliot's mind. Raelyn thrashed on the couch, sweat pouring from her skin as Quinn tried to keep her from hurting herself. She pulled at fistfuls of her hair. The part that got him was when her wide eyes locked on his and she said through a clenched jaw. "He's...He's inside me...He's gotta come out...You gotta get him out, Dad...He's gonna kill me...gonna kill us both...He's hurting me...Make it stop...Daddy, make it stop." She probably would have kept going if Quinn hadn't shushed her and ran a cold cloth over her face and down her neck. Quinn refused to look at Eliot as she quelled.

One thought kept burning through Eliot's mind: She had begged him not to do this job. Was Quinn thinking it too? Did he blame Eliot?

Twenty six hours. It took twenty six hours for the poison to reduce to trace amounts. It was seventeen hours in when Raelyn had gone comatose, but her vitals had started growing stronger. Stronger heartbeat, steadier breathing. The entire time, Quinn and Eliot stayed by her side, always a hand on her. Neither ate. They had a few beers. Dozed for minutes at a time, but never simultaneously. They took turns mopping her down with a cool cloth; she was constantly drenched in sweat.

Her brow knitted and her eyes cracked open as she groaned softly. She looked straight at Eliot who had her legs in his lap. He softly rubbed her legs from knee to ankle. She felt warm on her arm and looked to see Quinn's hand resting on it. "Quinn, what are you doing here?" Her voice was dry and gravelly.

"I'm experimenting on you." He gave her a crooked smile. She swatted weakly at the back of his head then grabbed at her own.

"I need water."

"Are you going to be able to keep it down?" Eliot asked.

"I need water!" she demanded, or begged. It wasn't clear.

Quinn was already on his feet, headed to the kitchen. "Got it."

He brought the biggest glass he could find full of water and a little ice. Raelyn yanked it from him and gulped down with inhuman speed. "Slow down, honey," Eliot warned. He reached for the glass, and she pushed his hand and snarled.

Then she glared critically at the empty glass. "More." She shoved the glass into Quinn's hands.

"Hang on," Eliot said, gently slipping out from underneath her legs and leaving the room. He brought in a chilled gallon of distilled water. She grabbed for it. "No." He pulled it out of her reach and poured some into the glass. She went through two-thirds of the gallon before capping it.

"I'm starving." Quinn and Eliot exchanged looks of exasperated amusement.

"What do you want, sweetie?"Eliot prodded.

She started to sit up. They both reached for an arm to keep her steady. "About 64 steak burritos and 3 dozen bloody marys." Quinn snorted, and Eliot rolled his eyes.

"There's this great pub-diner-thing like three blocks down. We should-"

She pushed herself to her feet and started moving towards the door. "No!" Eliot and Quinn, commanded in unison catching her before she completely face-planted, but still banged up her knees.

"What the hell was that?" she complained.

"Twenty six hours of seizures, hallucinations, vomiting, and nothing to eat or drink," Quinn explained as they reset her on the couch.

She nodded. "Right, that."

Eliot proceeded to cook and let Raelyn eat everything in the kitchen. She marathoned Clint Eastwood movies, and Quinn was sent out grocery shopping. Raelyn eventually slipped into a food coma. She woke up curled up on the couch with Quinn dozing on the other end of the couch. He woke up as she stirred.

"My dad hasn't killed you yet?" she snarked.

He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "Actually, we were talking."

She tilted her head back and looked at him curiously. "I've been thinking...with everything that happened. Hardison and Parker looking so happy. Before the hail of bullets. And then almost losing you...again."

Raelyn scooted away from him. "Quinn, where you goin' with this buddy?"

"Buddy," Quinn repeated quietly. "It's always been more than that."

"Quinn, that's not..." She trailed off as he dug something out of his pocket and shifted down to one knee. Raelyn got to her feet to counter. "Quinn, what the fuck? Stop."

"I wanna be with you. Buddies for life. Marry me."

Her fists opened and closed several times. She drove her knee into the side of his head. She heard a hysterical wheezing and looked to see Eliot literally rolling on the floor behind the couch, howling with laughter. It dawned on her that it was prank. "THAT WASN'T FUNNY, QUINN!"

"That was amazing!" Eliot gasped. "Even better than I thought it would be!"

Quinn grunted, also laughing, as he pulled himself back upright. "So worth it." He swiped the blood dripping from his eyebrow with his thumb.

Raelyn picked up the discarded grey suede ring box and inspected the contents: a gold and silver twisted band with a square cut obsidian stone. "This is actually nice."

"You can keep it if you want."

She tossed it at him. "No, you ruined it."


	58. Chapter 58: Fourteen

Raelyn eventually went back to her place. Quinn and Eliot tagged along, creating their own little dysfunctional family. They were in the middle of a poker game when there was a knock at the door. Still aglow from a winning hand, Raelyn answered the door, and her face fell. There was Sterling and two armed agents, and she knew.

"Jamie Andrews?" Sterling asked, in a quiet, knowing tone.

"Yeah," she answered. He seemed as disappointed to be there as she was to see him.

Eliot and Quinn must have felt the air change they came up behind her, wordlessly asking what was going on. "What-" Eliot started but Raelyn shushed him.

Glancing at his feet, Sterling said, "Jamie Andrews, you are under arrest on fourteen charges of murder."

"You got her just because you couldn't get him, huh?" Quinn murmured.

"Shut up, Quinn," Raelyn commanded as she turned around, preemptively putting her hands behind her back.

"What?! No!" Eliot roared. As the agents stepped forward to cuff her, he tried to pull her out of their grip.

She took her free hand, as the other one was already cuffed, and pushed him back. "Dad, no."

"You can't take her!"

Her other hand is cuffed. "Dad. Dad! I need you to listen to me."

But Eliot wasn't about to listen. He noticed the accordion file gripped in Sterling's hand. "Are those her so-called charges? Let me see that." He went to snatch it, but Sterling just handed it to him. He dumped the files out onto a nearby table and stared at them, looking for answers. The names were familiar, but he couldn't place them. He examined the pictures of the bodies. All of the kills were just a little different, but he recognized the style. He knew she had done it. But there was a connection. He knew there was. And finally, he got it. The "victims" were all part of old jobs. Right-hand men.

He looked at Raelyn. Her expression was drenched in guilt. "They were going to start up what their bosses were in the middle of...and you took them out."

She didn't say anything. She didn't even nod. All she did was glance away briefly, and Eliot knew. So many things he wanted to say, but the only thing that came out was an accusatory, "You..."

Raelyn tried to defend herself, but she had just as much trouble as he did expressing herself. "I was...Dammit."

The agents started to pull Raelyn away, and Eliot got angry again. "No! You keep your hands off her!"

That sadistic boyish grin finally appeared on Sterling's face. "You should probably say your goodbyes now. It's doubtful Daddy or your boyfriend can get within fifty meters of a prison without getting put in one. And I know that 14 is rather conservative for you, Miss Andrews, and with your choice of victims, I don't see you lasting for than a couple weeks."

Raelyn twisted around and glared at him. "Really? You're going to antagonize? Right now? You know I can whip out of these cuffs and kill all three of you, right? I don't have to cooperate. I'm only doing this because-"

"That's enough," Quinn interjected.

She had said enough. Sterling had already shrank back. "Dad, come here. Look at me. Listen to me." Eliot complied, putting himself inches in front of her. She bent her knees to get to his eye level. "It's going to be okay. Trust me. I'm going to be okay."

He protested, "How-"

She shook her head. "Trust me. We're going to be okay. Do you understand me?" It didn't make sense. Eliot couldn't see any way to untangle this, but she was so certain. He had to believe her. He nodded. Her voice became barely audible. "Doda, gvgeyuhi."

He put his arms around her and whispered. "Gvgeyuhi squui."

He let go and stepped back when she quietly called Quinn over. "We're okay," she stated.

"We're okay," he answered.

He put his hand on her shoulder. Making sure Eliot couldn't see, she mouthed "Take care of him." Quinn nodded. Raelyn stepped back and the agents took hold of her and walked out.

"And make sure Charlie's taken care of," Raelyn called back.

"Who's Charlie?" Sterling asked with narrowed eyes.

Raelyn, Eliot, and Quinn, having spent far too much time together as of late, all answered, "A code name for fucking your mother." The want to laugh was squelched as Raelyn was loaded into a dark town car.

Sterling stepped forward, looking sympathetic again and opened his mouth to say something, but Eliot just growled "No," and shut the door in his face. As the car was heard starting pulling away, Eliot pressed his back against the door and slid into a defeated sitting position.

"Come on, man, hold it together," Quinn murmured without conviction.

Eliot kept knocking the back of his head into the door rhythmically. "Everything that I was supposed to keep from happening to her happened. I thought that leaving her with her mom would have stopped all this. But was it worse to leave her with someone who didn't care? Would she have gone the same way-"

"Stop. You know better."

It wasn't long after that the Jack Daniels came out. They just sat on the floor drinking in silence. It was some odd hour in the morning when Quinn went home, promising to check in at some point. Eliot was half-asleep by then, ignoring a pounding headache that had little to do with the empty bottle in his hand.


	59. Chapter 59: Under

Eliot came to and peeled himself off the floor as dawn was breaking. As he planted his feet and got his bearings, he noticed something was there that wasn't supposed to be: The files that documented the fourteen men that Raelyn was arrested for ending.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with them. He didn't think calling up Sterling up to let him know he left the files behind was a good idea; Sterling would just think he was up to something. Plus, he didn't want Sterling at his house. Nor did he want to meet at his lovely agent-infested office.

Then it dawned him that he wasn't at home. He was at Raelyn's. He gathered the files, locked up and went home. He closed the front door and locked it behind him then he stepped inside. For a while, he just stared at the file clutched in his hand. Before he knew what he was doing, he was under his bed, fiddling with the padlock on the panel underneath his bed. He lifted the panel and slid into the secret compartment like a mechanic under a car, snatching the files as he went down. He landed in what was essentially an underground bunker. There was a padlocked case of food, a cot, a foot locker (weapons cache), and a safe. He knelt down to put the files in the safe but paused.

Finally his thoughts caught up with his actions. Raelyn had files on his work; now he had files on her. Sterling hadn't come back for them by now, he couldn't miss them. Eliot spread the files across the bunker and started examining them. He wasn't surprised by what he saw, mostly. Her technique got subtly smoother with later jobs. Then as he stared, he saw something deeper. Not saw, felt. Pain. Raelyn did it all out of pain. As soon as the realization hit him, he gathered up the files. He pressed his ring finger against the biometric lock on the safe, shoved the files in, slammed the door, wiped his print off the lock, and hoisted himself out of his bunker. In his mind, he kept seeing that fourteen year old face puckered in defeat. "I can't take it anymore, Dad. She looks at me like I'm nothing."

As he was locking the panel, his phone went off. Quinn had texted him. He was dropping by...with beer. Quinn showed up a few minutes later, and it occurred to Eliot that the bunker had delayed the message. He was concerned Quinn would be suspicious, but he didn't act like it. He and Quinn drank and hung out for a while, until it was clear that they couldn't hang out they way they had in the past due to the fact that Quinn was sleeping with Raelyn. Well, that wasn't the sole reason tensions got higher. Eliot kept thinking about the fourteen kills, and he got increasingly angry with Raelyn. But he couldn't say anything to Quinn; he'd defend her.

So they'd bicker and brawl, and Quinn would leave. A day or two later, Quinn would return, and it'd happen again. Neither voiced why Quinn kept returning or Eliot kept letting him in. About once or twice a week, Quinn would disappear on a job. Parker and Hardison put Leverage on hiatus again to keep Parker off the radar and plan the real wedding. Eliot chose not to tell anyone about Raelyn's arrest. Their outrage would just fuel his want to do something reckless. When Quinn wasn't around, Eliot would be down in his bunker examining the files, getting more and more upset.

Quinn was over, he had just gotten off a job and Eliot was stewing in files in his mind. Raelyn had been gone about three weeks. Eliot tossed a beer bottle a little too hard. It broke and only half of it landed in the trash can. As Eliot was disposing of the rest of it, Quinn asked, "Problem?"

And Eliot snapped. "She had no business dealing with those guys!"

"Don't. She did what she had to."

"No! She put herself in danger!"

"SHE WAS PROTECTING YOU!"

"What?!"

Quinn bypassed another beer and poured a glass of whiskey. "She bugged Sterling's phone. Even though she doused Moreau in ammonia, they were going to pull you in for questioning since the late Raelyn Spencer killed him. I lent her some new guys, and they posed as agents and input evidence connecting her Andrews to enough murders that Sterling wouldn't bother with you."

Raelyn's demeanor at her arrest now made sense. "She knew she was going down. She went in...for me," Eliot realized. For the umpteenth time, his heart broke.

The glass in Quinn's had shattered. "You have no idea how much she sacrifices for you, you selfish prick!" Quinn growled, his voice rising as he spoke. He grabbed at Eliot's neck.

Eliot took fistfuls of Quinn's shirt and slammed him into the fridge. "Don't you start with me! We both make sacrifices! But it was not her responsibility to-"

"What in the hell is going on in here?!" It was a firm female voice. They turned to see Raelyn pulling her hair into several ponytail holders.

"What the hell?!" Eliot yelled.

"I leave you two alone for five minutes!" Raelyn accused. Eliot and Quinn dropped each other.

Eliot turned to Raelyn, his face reddening. "Did you break out?"

"No," two voices answered, Raelyn's and a male's that had a British accent. Sterling stalked in behind her.

Eliot recoiled. "You...you didn't sleep with him, did you?" he asked with disgust.

"No!" Raelyn spat with disgust. Sterling almost looked offended.

"So why are you here?" Eliot asked, the files burning in his mind.

"No grounds to hold me," Raelyn answered.

Elot furrowed his brow. Sterling sighed. "All of the evidence submission forms that were used to submit her DNA were incorrect."

"Wonder how that happened," Quinn muttered. Raelyn smirked. Quinn tilted his head and stared at Raelyn curiously. "You have bangs?"

Raelyn subconsciously touched her forehead. "Yeah, this chick decided she needed to 'put me in my place' and tried to stab me in the face. She almost made it." She raised the bangs to reveal a healing slice in her forehead.

"Is she alive?" Quinn asked.

Raelyn rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately."

"So...we're square?" Sterling asked, turning to leave.

Raelyn crossed her arms. "Not even close."

"What?" Eliot asked.

"Don't ask," Sterling and Raelyn dismissed, and Sterling was out the door.

Eliot took a breath, absorbing the situation. He stepped over and squeezed Raelyn. "Glad to have you back."


	60. Chapter 60: Shots

Raelyn and Quinn strolled into the pub having just finished a job. The two of them decided to meet up with Eliot as it was a Friday night, and they felt like partying. Parker and Hardison were hanging out as well but closer to the kitchen. Raelyn and Quinn sat down, sandwiching Raelyn between Quinn and Eliot. She pulled off her olive hoodie. "Oh, I can probably take that off now," she said to herself, ripping a white bandage off her wrist.

"Ooh, lemme see," Quinn said with enthusiastic curiosity. Eliot leaned in to share a look as she revealed a black kiss mark tattooed over the bullet wound from Parker's fake wedding. "Did you get the raven finished?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah." Raelyn lifted the side of her tank top to show of a raven that spread its wings over her side, covering up the holes from the injury that caused her memory loss.

"You keep going at this rate, you're going to run out of skin," Eliot commented, swigging his beer.

"You keep going like this, you're going to run out of skin," Raelyn mocked as she readjusted her shirt.

"Hey," Hardison interjected, "there's a new beer out of the brewery. I think you'll like it." He handed one to Raelyn and one to Quinn. They clicked the beers together to open them and took long drinks. Quinn hummed in satisfaction.

"That is good, citrusy," Raelyn mused. Hardison nodded, clapped and went back to Parker, drinking a house brew of her own. The front door dinged and everyone glanced towards the door to see seven casually dressed young men enter. "Great, frat boys," Raelyn sighed under her breath.

"Don't make it a problem before it is," Quinn quelled. Then there were several lecherous comments directed towards Raelyn and Parker. Parker slipped to the back.

Raelyn quietly warned Quinn, "It's becoming a problem."

"Calm down," Quinn requested.

"Oh, drinking a beer like one of the boys, huh? Sure you don't want an appletini, sweetheart?" one of them said loudly, marking himself as the alpha male.

"Just shut him down and move on," Eliot instructed quietly.

"I'm sorry, son, you intimidated by a woman who can hold her liquor better than you?"

Alpha Child then made a very big mistake. He stepped right up to Raelyn, completely oblivious to the observing Quinn and Eliot. "It's cute that you think sipping on a fruity little beer means you could even keep up."

"Okay, crossing a line," Elot remarked quietly.

"Amy," Raelyn said, addressing the former waitress now bartender, "looks like I'm going to need about a hundred shots of tequila."

"Rae," Quinn and Eliot said cautiously.

"Ten shots a piece," Raelyn announced. The frat boys "ooooh"'d.

"And how many shots are Grandpa and Junior Fabio going to take for you?" Alpha Child asked.

Raelyn looked at Eliot and Quinn in turn. "And the line is gone," Eliot said.

Quinn shrugged and nodded. "Yup, time to-"

"Um," Hardison spoke a monosyllabic protest.

Quinn pulled a bundle of cash from his jacket and slipped it to Hardison. "This should cover whatever damage is about to be done. Signal Amy to get out once she's done pouring."

"Aight," Hardison agreed, slipping to the back.

Habitually, Raelyn started shaking hot sauce into her shots, and everyone started shooting. Ten shots a piece, and Alpha Child slurred, "So what now, sweetcheeks? How ya feelin'?"

"Better than you," Raelyn said clearly. She leaned against the bar casually and rested her hands on Quinn and Eliot's shoulders. Then she hoisted herself up and wrapped her legs around Alpha Child's neck, throwing her weight into him and taking him to the floor. And that's when the fight started. The casualties were three chairs, a table, one of the front windows, and seven half-conscious, bleeding frat boys.

Quinn hauled one of them out to the curb. "That was the last one."

"Fantastic," Eliot said. "I left a voicemail with the contractor."

"Well, that was fun," Raelyn said.

"It was," Quinn agreed. "See you back at my place?"

Raelyn nodded as she and Eliot cracked open another couple of beers and Quinn swept out the door. "So there's something I've been meaning to ask you," Raelyn started.

"What's that?" Eliot responded, getting comfortable.

"My parents both grew up in the South with Cherokee backgrounds, yet I have an Irish name. Why?" Eliot let his head fall to the counter and started laughing. "What?" she insisted.

He lifted up and explained, "Your mom was feeling a little sentimental. Okay, she was seven months along, and the hormones were making her a little sentimental. And I was a little drunk."

"Surprise, surprise," Raelyn quipped.

He pushed her arm. "Will you hush and let me tell this story? It's very touching." His laughter gave him away. "Okay, so we started talking about naming you and thinking about the night you were conceived and I remembered something. That night we were at a party. One of the things we were celebrating was the return of our buddy Wayne; he was a couple years older and he was really smart. He had just gotten back from studying abroad in Ireland. But he had brought back a lot of souvenirs."

"He brought back a ton of alcohol, and I'm named after an Irish liquor, aren't I?" Raelyn predicted, lacking amusement.

Eliot snorted, "Well, yeah, but it's actually really sweet. It's this really nice Irish whiskey from this tiny little town he visited. The distillery is run by this little old man and it's named after his first daughter who drowned in the creek when was a girl. Okay, the story is getting less sweet, but I mean..."

Raelyn shrugged. "No, I like it. Some sweet old man lost his daughter, so you named him a new one." She laughed briefly at the odd notion. "But it's nice to know at some point my mom had some sort of positive feeling towards me."

He put his arm around her. "You know, I didn't meet you until you were two weeks old, but I held you for the first time and...I don't know, I was hoping maybe...after you moved in I could try to love you enough for the both of us."

"Dad, you're drunk," Raelyn concluded. She leaned into him. "But I believe you did. And I love you too."


End file.
